Without Him
by MermaidGirl34
Summary: Harry Potter is at Kings Cross station, halfway between life and death. He must choose whether to rejoin the living...or move "on." Staring into his mothers eyes, he makes his decision. It is time to die. What would happen...if Harry Potter actually died?
1. Moving On

**(A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. All ideas and dialogue in this chapter belongs to JKR. I do, however, own this plotline. I did skip some dialogue in places, but it's genuinely true to the book, except for my little twist. This is my first solo, multi-chap Harry Potter fic, so please read and review! Enjoy.)**

Walking. He walked through the forest like a ghost, numb from the fear of what he was about to do.

He was giving himself up.

He was going to die.

Die. Die. The word rang through his head like an echo. He was going to die. He was going to leave this world, and join his parents in death.

His parents. He glanced at them, floating reassuringly alongside him with Sirius and Lupin, visible only by the power of the Resurrection Stone. Lily caught his eye and smiled warmly.

Harry turned away, glad that they were with him. He was shaking as he followed the two Death Eaters towards Voldemort, his breath coming in short gasps. His heart was beating a mile per minute, throwing itself against his ribs, as if trying to get out of its doomed cage. Uncontrollable fear pulsed through his entire body, flowing through his veins and holding him hostage.

Die. He was going to die.

How much longer did he have left? Minutes? Seconds? He didn't know, but he knew he had only a small amount of time left on this earth. Would it be quick? Or would Voldemort draw it out, making it dramatic, making it torture for him as he willingly gave himself up? Harry dearly hoped it would be fast, painless even. He didn't want to break down in front of Voldemort in his last moments, cowering in fear. He wanted to be brave, and go out like a hero. Like the hero everyone saw him as, even though inside he was quaking with fear.

Die. He was going to die.

And then they reached the clearing. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, Harry recognized it as where Aragog and his large family had once lived. Now it was deserted, flocked with silent Death Eaters, watching and waiting.

And Voldemort. Standing in the middle of the clearing, head bowed, his long white fingers clutching the Elder Wand. The most powerful wand in the world. Dumbledore's wand.

Harry's heart, impossibly, quickened at the sight. The snake-like figure before him, white skinned with flowing black robes, holding the wand that would take his life. The man who had killed his parents, who had been trying to kill him ever since he was one year old, and now would finally do it. Finally kill him.

A shuddering breath escaped his lips. He had scarcely realized he hadn't been breathing. The two Death Eaters were saying something, but Harry's ears didn't seem to register their words, filled only with the sound of his rapidly beating heart.

And then Voldemort spoke, his blood red eyes flashing. "I thought he would come," he breathed, each word sending another flood of fear through Harry's body. "I expected him to come."

Harry started to shake, his hands trembling. He closed his eyes, preparing himself, trying to get as much of a grip on his trembling body as he could.

"It was, it seems…mistaken," Voldemort whispered.

"You weren't."

Harry said the two words as loud as he possibly could, using all his will power to make his voice neither shake nor crack. Taking in as big of a breath as his lungs would allow, he let the Invisibility Cloak, along with the Resurrection Stone, slip from his grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his parents vanish. Mentally, he tried to control his shaking.

And then he stepped out into the clearing.

The Death Eaters broke out in gasps, but Harry scarcely noticed. He vaguely heard Hagrid yelling at him from somewhere to his left, but he did not turn his head to see him. Instead, he locked eyes with the man in front of him, his enemy, the man that was responsible for his parents' death, along with Fred's, Lupin's, Tonk's, Siruis's, and so many others, all the way down to little innocent Colin Creevey.

And now, the man responsible for his.

As he looked into those blood red eyes, all awareness of his surroundings vanished. All that mattered was him, and Voldemort.

It was time to die.

Time seemed to freeze as Voldemort studied him, sizing up the seventeen year old in front of him, as if not sure if he was really there. "Harry Potter," he whispered, the name rolling off his tongue like a mesmerized hiss. "The Boy Who Lived."

There was a moment of silence, and then Voldemort slowly raised the Elder Wand. Taking one final breath, Harry closed his eyes.

And then he heard the faint whisper of words, saw a flash of green light through his eyelids, and everything went black.

~O~

He was alone. Completely alone. He was sure of that. And he was also sure that he was in some sort of human form, for he could feel. He was aware of a smooth surface beneath him, neither cool nor warm, simply there.

The realization of these three things seemed to come slowly to him. But once they had registered, he began to wonder. If he could feel, surely that meant he could see?

His brain, or at least, whatever was allowing him to think, sent a message to whatever form of body he had, to open his eyes. Obediently, they opened, and Harry found he could see.

See very well in fact, even though he could detect no glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Sitting up, he realized he did in fact have a body—though he was not clothed.

Looking around, his eyes confirmed that he was, in fact, alone, so his nakedness did not seem very bothering to him. Though his surroundings did.

If it could be called surroundings. A swirling light mist flowed around him, forming vague shapes that Harry could not completely identify. He was somewhere, he was sure of that, but he could not quite see where, as the mist would not shape solidly into one form that he could see.

Turning away from the mysterious mist, Harry inspected his "body." It seemed to be his, though oddly unscathed. Even more otherworldly to him, when he touched his forehead, his fingers brushed no scar.

Where was he?

More alert now that he had successfully studied his position, Harry got to his feet. Suddenly self-conscious, he wished he were clothed.

No sooner than the thought had entered his head, soft, clean robes engulfed his body, light and airy. Amazed by the sheer magic of this, Harry looked at the mist around him again, studying the swirling shapes more closely.

This time, when he looked, the shapes seemed to become real things. Harry made out a glittering glass dome, stretching above him when he stared hard into the swirling white. Was it a palace? He strained his eyes even harder, and a wide-open space was revealed to him, even more massive than the Great Hall. Harry recognized it, the name of the place on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach. He just couldn't place it…

And then Harry jumped as a low, pitiful moan sounded from somewhere to his right, hidden by the mist.

Curious, he followed the sound of the whimpering, walking slowly through the light vapor. And there he spotted it, curled up in a ball, unwanted, abandoned, under a seat. He recoiled at the sight. It had the body of a small child, its skin unhealthly looking and flawed, ugly and repulsive. Harry felt a small rush of fear run through him as he stared at it. Helpless though it was, he did not want to approach it. Part of him wished to help the poor soul, but he couldn't bring himself to extend his arm and touch it.

"You cannot help," a voice said softly behind him.

Harry jumped and spun around, eyes widening at the sight of Albus Dumbledore, walking towards him in beautiful flowing robes of midnight blue.

"Harry," he said, spreading his arms wide in greeting, his once cursed hand now new and healthy. "You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk."

The old man turned, silver beard swinging as he strode away from the disheveled thing beneath the seat. At lost for words, Harry followed. The two of them sat on two chairs that Harry hadn't noticed before, Dumbledore beaming at him proudly the whole way.

Harry stared at the man he had come to know, taking in his appearance. He looked just like him, down to ever detail. But yet…

"But you're dead," Harry whispered, somehow managing to form the words.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said nonchalantly.

"Then…I'm dead too?" Harry asked, voice shaking ever so slightly.

"Ah," Dumbledore murmured, smiling thoughtfully. "That is the question, isn't it? On the whole, my dear boy, I think not."

Harry stared at him, stunned.

"Not?" he echoed, dumbfounded.

"Not," Dumbledore said firmly.

"But…" Harry said, his mind refusing to believe it. "But I should have died! I didn't defend myself! I meant to let him kill me!"

"And that will, I think, have made all the difference," Dumbledore said softly.

"Explain," Harry demanded.

Dumbledore smiled, kindly leading Harry to answer his own questions. When Voldemort hit him with the Killing Curse, he destroyed the shard of his soul that lived inside of him. Despite this, Harry was still alive because of how Voldemort had taken his blood in the graveyard that night in his fourth year, to resurrect himself. Knowing nothing about Harry's mothers' sacrifice, and the magical protection in Harry's blood, Voldemort made Harry invincible while he himself was still alive.

Mesmerized, Harry listened as Dumbledore explained how his wand recognized Voldemort when he was escaping the Dursley's, using some of his own magic against him - destroying Lucius's poor wand, which couldn't withstand the power.

And then Dumbledore, tearfully, told his story. With the Hallows, Grindelwald, and the death of Ariana. Slowly, he explained the Deathly Hallows to Harry, and how Voldemort saw them.

Baffled, Harry took this huge flow of new information in, once again glancing at his surroundings.

"Where are we exactly?" he asked Dumbledore, watching the swirling shapes around him with interest.

"Well, I was going to ask you that," Dumbledore answered, looking at the mist seemingly for the first time. "Where would you say that we are?"

Harry glanced at the mist one more time, and his eyes widened as he finally recognized the interior.

"It looks," he said slowly, "like King's Cross station. Except a lot cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see."

"King's Cross station!" Dumbledore laughed heartily at this. "Good gracious, really?"

"Well, were do you think we are?" Harry asked, a little hurt.

"My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, _your _party."

Harry didn't quite get what he meant by this, but said nothing. They sat in silence for a little while. And then Harry looked up at Dumbledore, a resigned look in his emerald eyes.

"I have to go back, haven't I?" hwhispered.

"That is up to you," Dumbledore said sincerely, his blue eyes shining.

"I've got a choice?" Harry exclaimed, surprised.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said, smiling again. "We are at King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to…let's say…board a train."

"And where would it take me?" Harry asked curiously.

"On," Dumbledore said simply, obviously not about to elaborate.

Harry fell into silence, considering this tidbit of information. He had a choice. He could go back and face Voldemort, possibly finishing him for good, or die trying. Or he could go…on.

"Professor?" Harry said uncertainly.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore responded kindly.

"If I were to go…on, would Voldemort still have a chance at being defeated?"

Dumbledore sat back, considering this. "Well, that would depend," he reasoned. "I can offer no guarantee. If you were to go back, you would face Voldemort, and possible defeat him. But if you did not…well, I think someone would rise up to the challenge."

Harry digested this information slowly. "So…yes?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said sincerely. "Yes, I think there would still be a good chance that Voldemort would be defeated."

Harry sat back at this, contemplating his choices. Unsure of what he should do, he looked up from his hands and found to his surprise that there were two trains on what had been only empty tracks last he had looked. They were both sparkling white, pristine and clean. One was facing the right, pointing towards the bright, inviting mist before it. The other pointed to the left, back towards a duller, real-looking vapor.

As Harry watched with interest at this sudden change in his surroundings, the mist that each train was facing started to shift, images starting to appear within it. Eyes wide, Harry gasped as a picture formulated in the white, pretty mist to the right.

Two shapes began to appear, their features starting out hazy, their figures only vaguely human. But then they started taking shape. A male and a female. The man had untidy hair, and glasses…and the woman had long, flowing hair.

Harry stared hungrily as his parents' picture finished forming, color completing the image with Lily's striking red hair and lovely green eyes coupled with James's untidy black mop and askew glasses that framed his hazel eyes.

"Mom," he whispered, unable to keep the words from escaping his lips. "Dad."

Dumbledore glanced at the direction Harry was staring, mildly interested. "You see them?" he asked.

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Then I guess that would be the train that would take you on, my dear boy…" Dumbledore said softly. "If you so choose, of course."

Harry tore his eyes away from the image of his parents at this. "What about the other train then?" he asked.

"The other one?" Dumbledore said, raising an eyebrow. "Why I would say that that one would take you back."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Slowly, Harry glanced back at the train on his left. An image was also forming in the duller mist. A figure, then two, and then three, four, five…many humans beginning to take shape. Harry's eyes began to water as Neville Longbottom came into view, flanked by Ron and Hermione…and then Ginny. Ginny. His heart fluttered at the sight of her. And behind her Luna, Cho, Seamus, the whole of Dumbledore's Army, smiling warmly at him. Luna even waved.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore, suddenly torn. "What should I…what should I do?" he asked the older man, conflicted. "Which train should I take?"

Dumbledore shrugged, eyes sparkling. "That is entirely up to you, Harry," he said kindly. "Though I would choose wisely. Fate has not given you many choices in life. Your destiny has always partially been written out. This is your time to choose, to make a decision of your own. Use it well."

Harry reacted slightly to Dumbledore's words, his last sentence bringing back a memory of an unsigned letter with a valuable Christmas present…

Dumbledore smiled down at him from behind his half-moon spectacles knowingly, before getting up with a sigh. "I will leave you to your own devices," he said quietly. "Until we meet again Harry."

He patted Harry affectionately on the arm, before turning and walking away, disappearing in a brief, quiet flash of light.

Harry watched him go, before turning back to the two images that represented his decision.

His parents to the right, waving cheerily and smiling warmly.

His best friends to the left, grinning and beckoning him back to them.

Biting his lip, Harry stared at his mother, silently begging her for advice. But she merely waved and smiled merrily, like she had from the Mirror of Erised all those years ago.

The Mirror of Erised. Flashing back, Harry thought about how he had stared at his parents for hours in its reflective depths, wanting nothing more to jump inside to them, to touch them, to talk to them, to actually _be_ with them.

His heart's desire. His heart's desire was to be with his parents.

As he stared at his family's image, tantalizingly close, it suddenly hit him. His heart's desire was to be with his parents…and now, he had the chance to finally be with them, for good.

Why deny himself of that?

_Because of my friends, _he answered his own question, glancing back at Dumbledore's Army. His best friends, who had stuck with him until the very end…literally. Could he really leave them? Could he leave them with Voldemort?

Dumbledore's words rang through his head again. _"If you were to go back, you would face Voldemort, and possible defeat him. But if you did not…well, I think someone would rise up to the challenge."_

Still slightly unsure, he looked once more at his mother, locking gazes with her brilliant green eyes. His eyes. And in that moment, that instant, his decision was made.

Quietly, serenely, and a little reluctantly, Harry turned back to the image of his friends. His best, best friends.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to them, the apology coming softly to his lips. "I'm sorry. But it's time for me to go…on. You'll have to go on without me. Fight him. Beat him. Like I know you all can."

He watched them, tears shinning in his eyes, and to his surprise, they all nodded. Neville straightened his posture, a confident look in his eyes that Harry had never seen before. A sword had suddenly materialized in his hand, and Harry dully recognized it as the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. Solemnly, he saluted Harry. Smiling, Harry saluted back. Neville grinned before turning and disappearing from sight.

Then Hermione stepped forward. She smiled warmly at him, tears glistening in her eyes. "Goodbye," she mouthed at him. "Goodbye," Harry whispered back to her. She nodded in return, before turning and following Neville into the mist.

Then came Ron. He gave Harry that crooked grin he always wore, hands in his pockets. "Goodbye, mate," he mouthed. "Goodbye, Ron. My best mate," Harry said back, tears unwillingly surfacing in his eyes. And then with a grin, Ron too disappeared.

Luna came next. She did a little dance for Harry, mad but sweet, making Harry chuckle despite himself. Then she waved to him, flashing a smile, before she followed the others into the oblivion.

Slowly, surely, Harry said goodbye to every single one of his friends. Even Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and Argus Filch came to say their silent goodbye. All too soon, they all had vanished, leaving only one.

Ginny.

Harry had been dreading saying goodbye to her. He had made his decision, and was going to stick true to it, but he still did not want to leave her. She stood there for a long time, staring at him, and he simply sat in his chair, relishing every bit of her, loving her, since it might be the last time he'd see her.

And then, all too soon, she raised a hand, putting it lovingly to her lips, and blew a heart-felt kiss to him.

Tears welling in his eyes, Harry pantomimed catching it, pulling in his hand and keeping the fist he'd caught it in closed to his heart.

"Goodbye," she whispered, her voice the only one that spoke out of the images, carrying across the white station like the whistle of the wind.

"Goodbye, Ginny," Harry whispered back, tears falling soundlessly down his cheeks.

And then Ginny turned and disappeared in the mist.

For a long time Harry just sat there, staring at the patch of swirling white in which she had been lost from sight. Then slowly, with renewed strength, he got up from his chair, turning away from the train on his left as it chugged out of the station, empty, and facing the one of the right. Its doors were open, inviting, beckoning him to board.

And without any more hesitation, Harry boarded it.

He stepped through the ghostly door, taking a seat in one of the many empty compartments. Slowly, the train began to move…gradually taking him towards his new home. His new, perfect world.

Towards his parents.

He was finally home.


	2. Without Him

(A/N: Wow. Seven reviews and ten alerts on the first chapter! That's pretty good for the Harry Potter section, considering, like, eight-hundred people update a day in the archive and my story was probably on the hundredth page after a couple of hours. Thanks for everyone who reviewed! I appreciate all your feedback, and I was pleasantly surprised to find I made a few of you cry. I've never really written much tragedy before. Mostly eternal conflict, humor and action so it was new territory for me. It made me feel accomplished and loved, so I really did appreciate it! All quotes and characters belong to JKR! Me don't own! Enjoy the chapter!)

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Voldemort was on the ground. This was curious. He did not remember collapsing, and had no recollection of impact. The last thing he remembered was Potter coming out of the forest, giving himself up, and then himself whispering the Killing Curse, the satisfying explosion of green light jetting out of his wand, hitting the boy, watching him go spiraling into the dust…

The boy. What had happened to the boy?

"My Lord…_my Lord_…" Bellatrix's voice breathed, dangerously close to his ear. A frown crossed Voldemort's lips. He did not like his followers so close to him. Regaining some feeling, he began to try and push himself to his feet, but found himself oddly weak and unable to do so without stumbling. What had happened? Had something occurred when he had hit the boy, and thrown him backward?

A surge of terror washed over him at this thought, something that Voldemort hated himself for feeling but was unable to prevent. The boy. Surely he was dead? He had hit him, straight on, with the Curse. But _something _had happened. Was it possible that he…?

"_My Lord…"_ Bellatrix said again, interrupting his thoughts. Voldemort's eyes flashed irritably. "That will do." He said curtly, satisfied when the hoard of Death Eaters surrounding him quickly scattered at his words. All except Bellatrix, who still seemed determined to help him and show her allegiance.

"My Lord, let me—" Bellatrix's voice whispered, her hand coming into view as she tentatively offered to help him. A rush of annoyance coursing through him, Voldemort ignored the hand, pulling himself to his feet.

"I do not require assistance," he hissed, and Bellatrix hastily withdrew her hand. Voldemort grudgingly noted her bravery and loyalty, but did not acknowledge this to her. He was Voldemort, the Dark Lord, and the most feared Dark Wizard of the Wizarding World. He did not need _help._

Ignoring Bellatrix's worshipful look, Voldemort turned towards Harry. His nemesis was lying; face down, in the dirt, his left arm bent at a weird angle, his features not discernable to Voldemort from where he was standing. He did not move, did not flinch. No signs of life were shown in the motionless shell of his seventeen-year-old enemy. Surely he was dead. But still…he had to be sure…

"The boy…" he whispered, not daring to let himself believe that Harry Potter was finally finished. "Is he dead?"

Complete silence met his words. No one spoke, all the Death Eaters focusing on the dead body of the Boy Who Lived. Voldemort too stared, hating himself for finding himself too afraid to go and see if Potter really truly was dead for himself. The truth was, he was terrified that he might not be, and that if he got near him Potter would jump out at him, kill him, and his glorious rein of the Wizarding World, the rein he had so carefully planned and waited for, would be lost. The thought of this, the fear of this happening, was too much, so he stayed rooted to the spot.

"You," he hissed, turning to the first Death Eater he saw, which happened to be Narcissa Malfoy, and flicking his wand in her direction. There was a bang, and a small flash of light illuminated the Elder Wand, followed by Narcissa's small shriek of pain. This act of inflicting pain made Voldemort feel better, more confident, and he pointed at Harry's motionless body purposefully. "Examine him," he ordered. "Tell me whether he is dead."

Tentatively, almost as if she was going into a pit of venomous snakes, Narcissa left the pack of Death Eaters and the protective figure of her husband, and made her way towards Harry. She walked slowly, eyes flickering back to Voldemort worriedly, as if he might kill her if she made the slightest wrong movement-which was entirely possible. Warily, she approached Harry, crouching down over his body, her long locks obscuring her face and the boys' from view.

Voldemort waited in tension as Narcissa examined the boy, leaning over him for what seemed like forever. But then, finally, she stood, turning back to him, her face unreadable.

"He is dead!" She declared.

And at that the deathly silence was broken, the Death Eaters breaking into cheers and yells of triumph, stamping their feet and sending jets of multi-colored light into the sky in celebration. No longer unsure, Voldemort's pale face broke into a wide, maniacal smile, his creepy red eyes glistening triumphantly in his followers' wands' light.

"You see?" he screeched in triumph over the noise, permitting himself to laugh a high-pitched, frightening cackle in celebration of his success, of his victory in killing Harry Potter. A thrilling feeling swooped in his chest, one that he had not felt in decades. The feeling of victory.

"Harry Potter is dead by my hand," he declared, raising the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the glorious wooden wand that had finally killed his nemesis, high in the air. "and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! _Crucio!" _

The Death Eaters all watched in delight as Harry James Potter's lifeless body began to twirl and flop around in the air, his arms and legs flapping uselessly. The famous round glasses fell from his face as he was flipped upside down, hitting the forest floor and shattering, a long crack down one lens. Finally, the body lifted a good ten feet off the ground, Voldemort flicked his wand and watched Harry fall, hitting the ground with a sickening and satisfying thump, much to the jeers and shrieks of laughter from his followers.

"Now," Voldemort said, smirking gleefully and enjoying every precious second of his victory. "we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body?"

He looked around, sizing up his people, but stopped when his eyes fell on the great oaf Hagrid, still tied, sobbing, to a tree. "No—" He whispered cruelly. "Wait—"

He flicked his wand and the half-giant was forced forward, much to the laughter of the Death Eaters.

"You carry him," Voldemort sneered. "He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid." He smirked, relishing his fun in humiliating the Boy Who Lived, the so-called 'Chosen One' even further. "And the glasses—" He added. "put on the glasses—he must be recognizable—"

Avery gleefully grabbed Harry's glasses from the dirt and shoved them onto his face as Hagrid bent down to scoop up Potter's lifeless body, tears running down his gigantic face.

"Move." Voldemort ordered harshly, flicking his wand again and forcing the giant of a man forward.

The celebrating procession made it's way out of the forest, two of Voldemort's giants smashing trees as they went. Slowly, surely, the tall towering oaks thinned into smaller birches as they neared the edge of the forest. The Death Eaters had fallen into silence as they walked; the only sound now being the continued sobs of Hagrid and the crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot.

And then, finally, the reached the edge.

"Stop."

Voldemort's commanding voice rang sharply through the silent forest, a small twitch of his wand bringing Hagrid forcibly to a halt. In front of them, the dementors patrolled the tress, hooded faces turned towards them, the air chilled by their presence. As if on cue, Voldemort walked forward, brushing past Hagrid and Harry's dead body, bringing the Elder Wand up to his lips.

"Harry Potter is dead," he announced, his voice, magically magnified, reverberating loudly amongst the trees. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

He paused for dramatic effect, a satisfied smirk on his face. "The battle is won," he continued. "You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we will build together."

He finished his speech and lowered his wand in satisfaction, knowing his words were going to have quite an effect. "Come," he ordered, taking the lead and forcing Hagrid to follow. Stroking Nagini's head fondly, he made his way down the hill and towards the castle, followed closely by his Death Eaters, feeling secure with the great snake's body curled around his shoulders.

"Harry," Hagrid sobbed pitifully, causing Voldemort to smile again. "Oh, Harry…Harry…"

They walked in silence until the reached the front of the castle, its double doors wide. Voldemort then raised his arm again, excitement coursing through him. His moment of true victory had arrived. "Stop," he hissed, and his army obediently did so.

A smile began to play on his white lips as his enemies, Potter's dear loyal friends, began to rush out of the castle, firm disbelievement in his death crushed as they saw his dead body for themselves.

"NO!" Professor McGonagall's strangled cry was alien sounding, unbelieving and filled with horror and grief. Bellatrix laughed at her despair, enjoying every second of the other woman's uncontained mourning. Voldemort's smile widened, and he stroked Nagini silently with one long white finger, watching the event play out before him.

Next came the other two of the Golden Trio, faces ashen, staring at Harry with their faces filled with uncontrollable grief.

"No!"

"_No!"_

And then the redheaded, smallest Weasley girl rushed out, attempting to throw herself at the dead boys' body, but finding herself restrained by her fathers' arms. "Harry!" she cried, her voice chocked with emotion and grief beyond anything imaginable. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she kept trying to get to Harry, struggling hopelessly in her fathers grip. "HARRY!"

And then the whole crowd erupted into grieving, outraged cries, screaming and cussing violently at Voldemort and his followers, some trying to launch themselves at him, until—

"SILENCE!" Voldemort cried, unable to sit back and take their petty insults any longer. With a strong wave of his wand, a bang, and a burst of bright light, he cast a powerful Silencing Charm on the crowd, bringing about his cherished quiet. "It is over!" he yelled to them, forcing the realization of his victory into their unbelieving heads. "Set him down Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Obediently, Hagrid gently put down Harry's limp body at Voldemort's bare, blood-caked feet. Voldemort smiled cruelly down at it. "You see?" he whispered, striding back and forth by the shell of his enemy, pointing to it triumphantly with the Elder Wand. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" Ron's outraged cry yelled, breaking the charm and throwing the crowd into shouts and screams again until Voldemort, blood red eyes flashing, raised his wand again with another powerful bang, bringing silence into rein again.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," Voldemort said, relishing the taste of the lie on his tongue. "killed while trying to save himself—"

He broke off suddenly, staring in slight amazement as a figure broke free from the group of Hogwarts' defenders and charged him head on. With a casual flick of his wand a loud bang filled the grounds, followed by a flash of light, and Voldemort sent the person sprawling to the ground, grunting in pain. Effortlessly, the Dark Lord caught the challenger's wand and examined it briefly, before throwing it away without a second glance.

"And who is this?" he hissed thoughtfully. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix laugh filled the air at the sight of the challengers face, her cackle high and mad.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord!" she chortled. "The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember," Voldemort said thoughtfully, looking down at Neville, who had scrambled back to his feet, unarmed, glaring unafraid at the Dark Wizard before him. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked, head cocked slightly as he studied the seventh year before him, glaring at him with hands curled defiantly into fists.

"So what if I am?" Neville said hotly.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come from noble stock," Voldemort reasoned. "You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," Neville said, raising his chin and planting his feet firmly into the dirt. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and his cry was met by supporting cheers from the crowd, breaking Voldemort's Silencing Charm once more.

"Very well," Voldemort sneered, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he paused, his red eyes darkening, "be it."

Raising the Elder Wand dramatically above his head, he waved it in a precise pattern, causing a window to smash above them, shattered glass tinkling down the stone walls, and a matted brown object flew down from it and landed precisely in Voldemort's outstretched hand. Smiling, he waved it around, showing the bemused crowd the patched and ragged Sorting Hat.

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," Voldemort declared. "There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

He pointed his wand at Neville, who suddenly became ridged and unmoving, and forced the Sorting Hat roughly onto his head.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," Voldemort said, smirking, and with a final flick of his wand set the Sorting Hat alight.

Screams of horror filled the crowd of watching Hogwartians as Neville's clothes caught fire, him unable to move a muscle to defend himself, frozen in one spot by the power of Voldemort's full Body-Bind Curse.

And at that moment, many chaotic things happened at once.

An uproar from the boundaries of the school was heard as hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and raced towards the castle, yelling mad war cries. And at the same time, Grawp came into view, yelling "HAGGER!" blindly and causing Voldemort's giants to charge.

The students and teachers, as well as Voldemort and the Death Eaters, fell into chaos as centaurs charged into the clearing, shooting arrows a plenty into the Death Eaters ranks.

And then, in one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse, the flaming Sorting Hat falling off his head as his bloodstained hands drew a silver, glittering jeweled sword from its depths.

And then, as if in slow motion, Neville lunged at Voldemort, yelling a deranged war cry, and swung the blade with all his strength, the sharp edge making contact with the smooth scales of Nagini's neck, slicing off her head in one clean stroke.

The head flew in the air, scales glinting in the light of millions of spells, and Voldemort's cry of fury was lost in the sounds of the battle raging around him. And then the head hit the ground, followed by its enormous body, and the final Horcrux was destroyed.

And then Voldemort turned on Neville, eyes blazing a furious red as he raised his wand to kill the boy who had destroyed the seventh bit of his sole and only friend.

But as he started to perform the curse, he was distracted by a loud yell of "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" and fell backwards in suprise as a bright silver hare burst forward, catching him off guard.

Neville turned, astonished, to meet the smiling face of Luna, wand still held high. "Did…did you just cast a Patronus at _Voldemort_?" he whispered in awe.

"He was going to kill you," she said simply. "I had to do something. Oh, and by the way, here's your wand." She held out the long wooden stick to him. Neville simply stared at it, before taking it gently. Had she really gone and retrieved it for him?

"You're unbelievable." he murmured, before the two of them turned and launched themselves back into battle.

~O~

Hermione ran through the midst of the battle, wand clutched tightly in her hand, tears cascading down her already wet cheeks. She was no longer paying attention to Voldemort, no longer trying to fight, only protecting herself or a friend when needed.

All she cared about was Harry. Harry. She had to find Harry's body.

"Ron!" she chocked out when she spotted him, dueling Yaxley alongside Bill. "Ron!"

He turned to her when he heard her, and upon seeing her anguished face, left Yaxley to Bill.

"What is it?" he said as he ran up to her, picking his way through the debris.

"Harry." She chocked, unable to say his name correctly through her tears. "We need to find Harry!"

Eyes beginning to water at her words, he nodded, and the two of them set off, barreling through the duelers and dodging the giants' enormous feet, struggling to get to the spot where Hagrid had put down Harry.

They reached it, by some miracle. Hermione let out a sigh of relief seeing that his body hadn't been trampled or crushed by the chaos, but letting out a strangled cry at the sight of him. Lifeless. Dead.

Ron was crying too, silent tears dripping off his chin as he bent down over his best friend. "We have to move him," he whispered.

"I…I know," Hermione managed to say, voice laced with emotion. "But to where?"

"Room of Requirement," Ron said automatically, bending down and carefully, gently, scooping his best mate's limp form into his strong arms. "Clear a path."

Obediently, Hermione nodded, walking ahead of Ron and Harry, clearing a path amongst the duelers and banishing their way of debris. Slowly, surely, the two of them made their way into the castle, fighting their way through Death Eaters to get to the stairs and make their way to the third floor.

As they slowly made progress, others joined them. Neville and Luna spotted them, throwing Avery across the room together with a powerful burst of light before hurriedly making their way toward them, helping Hermione's efforts to make their way through and keep Harry's body unscathed.

Next, George and Percy joined. And soon after Cho and Ginny, Ginny walking alongside Ron, unable to utter a spell from the force of her crying at the sight of Harry.

By the time the procession made it to the staircase, the majority of Dumbledore's Army, as well as many teachers and members of the Order of the Phoenix were with them, Hagrid having taken up the burden of carrying Harry from Ron.

The pack made their way up the moving stairs as quickly as they could, filing into the corridor on the third floor, facing the empty stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls to do ballet.

Silently, the group closed their eyes, shuffling their feet back and forth three times, trying their hardest in their grieving of Harry to focus on what they needed.

And doing its part, the door to the Room of Requirement opened.

The myriad of grieving witches and wizards made their way inside, barely glancing at the spacious interior, filled with many beds to place bodies upon, the walls draped with the banners of all four houses.

Carefully, tentatively, Hagrid placed Harry down on the cot in the middle of the room, the biggest one of them all, and by far the nicest. As his body lay at rest upon it, a wooden headboard appeared and began to change, turning into a carved Gryffindor lion, proudly looking over the Boy Who Lived's unmoving form.

The group stood silently around the cot for a long time, mourning Harry, their greatest hero, until finally, Hermione spoke.

"We need to go back out there," she said, her voice cracking from the strain of speaking. "We need to collect more of the bodies, and bring them here."

"And then do…what?" Hannah Abbot asked softly.

"Retreat," Hermione said, causing the group to begin to mutter in surprise.

"Retreat?" Kingsley repeated, outraged. "Why should we retreat? We should stay and fight! Take our revenge! For Harry!"

Shouts of agreement met his words, and cheers of "FOR HARRY!" rang through the room.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "We need to retreat, to regroup. Don't you see? Fighting here, in our weakened, scattered state is _pointless. _We're outnumbered. And no one can stand up to Voldemort now that…now that…H-H-Harry's d-dead…" she faltered, her eyes beginning to water once again.

Silence met her words, and a couple people bowed their heads.

"Okay, so what if we retreat?" Neville said finally, breaking the strained silence, the Sword of Gryffindor still clutched tightly in his hand, stained with the blood of Nagini. "What then? Where do we go? What do we do?"

"We'll Apparate out," Ron answered, taking up Hermione's position since it was clear she could no longer go on. "Go somewhere. Um…I don't know exactly where…" he faltered, glancing at Hermione.

"The Forest of Dean," Hermione managed to get out. "We can stay there, in the tent. It's magical. It…it s-should expand…" she started to shake and Ron squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Is that possible?" Neville asked. "I thought you can't Apparate inside Hogwarts."

Ron shrugged. "You-Know-Who broke through the enchantments," he said. "The spell that pervents us from Apparting might be down too. It's worth a try."

"I'll test it," Hermione volunteered, closing her eyes and concentrating hard on the image of the Forest of Dean, trying hard not to let the image of Harry lying dead swim into her mind. With a loud crack, she disappeared, reappearing a few seconds later, hair slightly ruffled.

"It works," she confirmed.

"Right then," Ron said. "We'll go to the Forest of Dean and regroup. And then…then we can figure out where to go from there."

He fell into silence, and the majority of the group nodded in agreement, no one able to come up with alternative plan.

"Then it's settled," Neville said, face set with grim determination. "We'll go back out and collect as many bodies as we can and bring them back here. Find all the DA members, teachers, and Order of the Phoenix members you can and tell them the plan, and we'll meet back here in a hour."

He raised his wand. "For Harry," he breathed.

"For Harry," everyone echoed, putting their wands in the air, before dispersing to go find more bodies.

Neville then turned to Ron and Hermione. "How about you two stay here?" he suggested.

Ron frowned. "But I want to help!" he protested, slightly hurt.

"I know," Neville said, "but I know this Room, and how it works, better than anyone. Someone has to stay here, or this particular form of it will disappear, and no one will be able to get back in. Someone has to stay. Do you think you guys can, and make sure everything goes according the plan?"

Hermione nodded silently. Ron hesitated for a moment, but with a quick glance at Harry's unmoving form, he too nodded.

"We'll leave a house-elf here when we leave for the Forest, so we can come back," Neville said, thinking of everything. "I'll recruit one to stay here when I go back down to get bodies. We'll be back soon."

And then he too disappeared.

~O~

An hour later, the large group of survivors crowded back into the Room of Requirement, now filled with dead bodies laid ceremoniously on cots. Everyone was battle-worn and had some sort of cut or mark to show for their fighting, though none of them showed them off, merely standing solemnly next to each other, harboring their grief from the death of their loved ones…and Harry.

When everyone had gathered, Mr. Weasley took the stage. "How many of you have been to the Forest of Dean before?" he asked. A small number of people raised their hands, Ron and Hermione included. Mr. Weasley nodded and gestured for them to come stand by him. "These few people will be Apparating groups of three to the Forest of Dean. I want you all to get into groups of three and then get in a line and get ready to Apparate."

Slowly, the large amount of people sorted into groups and got in a crude line amongst the assortment of cots. One by one, groups Apparated out with a crack, appearing again in the entirely different setting of the Forest of Dean, Hermione setting up her magical tent so that as people arrived they could get inside.

Finally, after a good while, everyone had been transferred to the Forest, leaving only Ron and Hermione left together in the Room, the only other living thing being the small, pointy-eared house-elf Neville had recruited to stay and guard the Room.

Hermione stared at Harry, tears sliding down her cheeks once more. "I…I just c-can't believe that h-he's really gone," she whispered, and Ron nodded understandingly, pulling her into his embrace and holding her protectively, comforting her.

"I know," he whispered to her. "I know. And will make sure he won't have died in vain. We'll find a way to kill Voldemort. We will, I know we will."

"I hope so," Hermione whispered. "I really hoped so."

They stayed their for a good couple minutes, just mourning Harry, lying their peacefully with his mess of black hair cascading into his face, half-concealing his lightning scar. His glasses were still cracked from when Voldemort had played with his body back in the forest. Quietly, Hermione whispered "Reparo," and the lenses magically fixed themselves, leaving Harry looking like he might have just fallen asleep after a particularly busy day.

And then, finally, Hermione slipped out of Ron's arms, lifting her wand and pointing it into the middle of the room. She whispered something, so soft that Ron could not make out what she was saying, and a soft haze filled the room, blanketing the dead bodies, and giving them a fresh, minty smell.

"What did you do?" Ron asked.

"Put a spell on them, so they won't decay," she said quietly, turning to him, refusing to look at those they had lost for another second. "When all this is over…_if _it's ever over…"

"It will be," Ron assured her.

"Then we can come back, and bury them all…properly. And say our goodbyes." She glanced once more, sadly, at Harry, before firmly looking away and slipping her hand into Ron's. "Lets go," she whispered.

Ron nodded, and then the two of them Apparated away, leaving the slowly ending battle behind, and joining the others in the Forest of Dean.

.

.

**(A/N: Well, that's finished. Man, I had a hard time writing that. Makes me want to cry too. Can't say I'm unhappy that it's done, though. I'm tired at staring at my computer screen. This took forever, since I had to quote the book and look at it every couple of seconds…Anyway, I should be updating fairly often, since school is starting up soon—three weeks, oh no!—and I want to get as much of this story done as I can. So I will be writing ahead and updating as much as possible. So don't despair! And please review! :-D)**


	3. The Right Choice

(A/N: Thanks soooo much for the reviews! Love you all! :D Hope you enjoy this chapter. No bashing of religion intended, this is just how I think the afterlife would be in Harry Potter. I am a Christen myself, and this is probably not at all how heavens like so don't take it personally.)

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Harry sat, legs crossed, on the smooth white floor beneath him, staring listlessly into the swirling patch of mist in front of him, random images appearing and disappearing according to his thoughts. He couldn't seem to decide what to watch, the idea of being able to see whatever he wanted still not completely settling with him right. The whole thing was still new to him. It had only been a couple hours since had officially died and taken the train into the afterlife. Afterlife. Wow, that was a lot to take in.

Sitting on the train, Harry had been slightly worried. What would the afterlife be like? Heaven? Sitting on clouds, surrounded by a bunch of people with wings playing harps? Somehow, Harry didn't envision that. And he was right. The afterlife was wonderful. Laid back and carefree. He was dead. He didn't have to worry about Voldemort anymore. He didn't need to constantly worry about Ron and Hermione and Ginny's safety…even though he found himself worrying anyway.

He was dead. His life was over. It was time to relax, to finally lay down the burden of life and do whatever he wanted. The moment he had stepped off the train, not knowing really what he was expecting to find, he was delighted to be greeted by his parents, his mother enveloping him into a tight hug before he could say a word. Others had come to greet him into death as well, a large crowd. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, even Dobby.

"Mom." Harry had whispered as he hugged her, taking in her scent, only vaguely familiar, her touch, her feel. His mother. It had been the first time Harry had any memory of ever having touched her. Tears of happiness had ran down his face, mirrored in his mothers' equally green eyes.

"You've been so brave darling," she had breathed as she let go after the long, tearful embrace. "I'm so so proud of you." She had held him in front of her, staring at him with love in her eyes, smiling almost as if she couldn't believe he was truly there.

"I missed you," Harry had managed to say, not caring how cheesy it sounded.

"And I missed you, Harry," she beamed. "More than you could ever comprehend."

They had smiled at each other for a long moment, and then Harry had turned to his dad.

"Dad," he had breathed, before running into his fathers' waiting embrace. They too hugged for a very long time, James stroking Harry's hair fondly, messing it up and making it stick on end like his.

"Harry," he had kept whispering, over and over and over. "Harry. My little Harry. All grown up. I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you to see it happen."

"You were with me dad," Harry had said sincerely as they reluctantly broke the hug. "You've always been with me. And I think…I think I always knew that. Even if it was only subconsciously."

James had nodded, a sad smile on his face. "It should have been different," he had said softly. "It could have been different. You could have been so happy, we could have been so happy together. A family. You should have never been orphaned and have to live with those horrid Muggles."

"Petunia isn't _that _bad," Lily had huffed, smiling at her husband.

"Still," James had said. "I just wish we could have been together longer. Be a true family. Think of the wonderful times we would have had together…"

"Well were together now," Harry had said, refusing to think of how things could have been. "We're a family again."

"Yes," Lily had said, and her and James enveloped him again in a big three-some hug. "A family again."

The had hugged for quite sometime, and when the finally stopped Harry was almost reluctant to let go. But nevertheless, he had never felt happier in his life—literally. He no longer felt cut off and alone. Orphaned, with no parents or family while all his friends had so many loved ones to surround them. He was with his parents again, reunited. He no longer had to be alone, had to deal with the pain and loss. The hardship was over. Now, he could have his hearts desire—life, or really, afterlife, with his parents.

Unable to wipe the joy-filled smile off his face, Harry had turned to Sirius. His godfather. The mischievous Black looked wonderful, younger and happier than he had in life and even more healthy-looking than he had looked in the projection of him shown by the Resurrection Stone. Gone were the effects of the dementors of Azkaban. His eyes were no longer sunken, his skin no longer pale. His eyes no longer flickered around nervously, and his posture had straightened. This was the Sirius that Harry had never gotten the chance to get to know.

"Harry," Sirius had said, grinning, spreading his arms wide. Harry had obediently rushed into them, savoring the feel of his strong, comforting embrace, the familiar smell of his clothes. Sirius. Harry really hadn't realized quite how much he had missed his godfather. Even in the two years since his death, the pain had not gone away.

Next had been Lupin, standing patiently next to Sirius for his turn to say hello to Harry. Like the Resurrection Stone had portrayed him, Lupin was dressed in simple wizard robes, though not at all shabby like the ones he had had in life. He looked well groomed and happy, genuinely content with the afterlife, although he had only been there a couple more hours than Harry. Their embrace was not as tearful as Harry's ones with his parents and Sirius had, since Harry had only just seen Lupin and talked to him before the battle. But still, Harry had seen his lifeless body lying in the Great Hall, and the image was not going to go away.

Next to Lupin had been Tonks, her hair her favorite shade of purple. She smiled at Harry, and hugged him like the rest, whispering in his ear slightly worriedly as she did. "Do you think someone will take care of Teddy?"

"Positive." Harry had whispered sincerely back. "I'm sure Bill and Fleur will be interested, being newly wed and all, and Bill, with his werewolf problem, will take care of Teddy if anything like that was passed on."

Tonk's let go of him, relief shinning in her eyes as she did. "I'm glad," she had said. "Thank you Harry. You would have made such a wonderful godfather."

"I hope so," Harry had said a little awkwardly. He had never seen himself as much of a godfather, but he would have tried his best.

After Tonks, Harry had gone to Fred, the redheaded twin grinning mischievously at him like he always had in life.

"Georgie was a little upset then?" He'd asked, looking a little sad. Harry figured that it must be pretty hard, being separated from your twin, your brother. He could scarcely imagine, being the only child that he was, to be without your other half for so long.

"He was pretty distraught," Harry had admitted. "Everyone was. You shouldn't have died. Not you," he looked around to all his loved ones, his friends and family. "not any of you."

Fred shrugged. "What's done is done," he had said. "Don't beat yourself up over it. It wasn't your fault, even though your stubbornly thinking it is. We chose to fight. We all knew the risks."

Harry had said nothing, not wanting to get into an argument. He still felt that is was his fault, regardless, that everyone who had died in the war had died, and he didn't think he'd ever stop feeling guilty for it.

Moving on, he had come to Dobby. Smiling he had squatted down to the tiny elf's height, staring into his friends huge eyes. "Hello Dobby."

"Harry Potter sir!" Dobby had squeaked, unable to contain his excitement. He had obviously been refraining from speaking until Harry had got to him, because now he ran up to him, hugging his leg like a hyper puppy. "Dobby is so glad that you are here, sir! Dobby missed you sir!"

"I missed you too, Dobby," Harry had said truthfully, taking in the little elf's appearance. He was wearing a shirt with a big D on it, over large, multicolored socks, several bizarre hats and snug mittens. It seemed Dobby's fashion sense had not changed, even in death.

After Harry had gently disconnected an almost tearful with joy Dobby from his leg, Harry turned to the last person in the afterlife's misty station. He hadn't noticed him at first, standing to the back, almost blending in with the swirling surroundings. But now he walked up to him, his last few questions forming on his lips.

"Professor," he had said, looking up into the intelligent blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore once again.

"Harry," Dumbledore had said fondly, smiling down on him. "I see that you have made your decision."

"It seems I have," Harry had said, smiling uncertainly at his former Headmaster. He hesitated, not sure how to approach the questions that were swirling around in his brain.

Luckily, like always, Dumbledore had seemed to read his mind. "I'm sure you'll be wondering just how the afterlife works," he said, eyes sparkling.

Harry had nodded, relieved that he did not have to ask. "Yes," he had said. He looked around at the misty station around him, his parents and the others that had greeted him retreating and forming a small group a little ways off, giving him and Dumbledore some space. "Is…is this the afterlife?"

"Part of it," Dumbledore had said. "The entrance, I believe, the way you see it. You see Harry, for those of us who deserve it when we die; the afterlife is everything we want. Anything we want. Anything we desire or want the afterlife to look like, it will be. Much like Kings Cross, when we talked last."

Harry had taken this all in slowly; a little excited at the prospect of having the choice of how he wanted his heaven to be. "What about you?" he had asked. "Can I still see you, and my parents, and Sirius and Lupin and everyone?"

"Of course Harry!" Dumbledore had laughed at the question. "The afterlife is what you want it to be, with who you want it to be. You can talk to and be with whoever you want to, provided they are dead also, and here."

Harry had been puzzled at this. "'And here'?" he had echoed.

"Not everyone deserves to be rewarded in death, Harry," Dumbledore had explained. "Not everyone who is dead is here. You will not find the likes of those who have chosen a dark path walking around these plains."

Harry had taken all this in quietly, and slightly happily. Good. He didn't want to ever have to meet up with Voldemort, or even a Death Eater at that, even if he was already dead. Then a though hit him.

"What about Snape?" he had asked. "Is…is he here?" 

Dumbledore had smiled warmly. "Serverus is here," he had answered quietly, "Though I do not believe he thought he would be. But his good deeds seem to have cancelled out his bad ones, and he is enjoying the afterlife now in plenty. You will be able to talk to him, if you wish."

Harry had nodded, relieved at this. "Good," he said. "I don't think he deserved to be punished. After all…he did save my life. And he took the risk of working undercover for you. Voldemort would have killed him if he had found out."

Dumbledore had nodded in agreement. "Yes, he would have. I do agree, Serverus deserves his current happiness. It was well earned, especially after the hardships he has gone through in life."

His gaze had flickered briefly over to Lily at this, and Harry understood what he had meant.

The then had fallen into a small, surprisingly comfortable silence, watching the white train that had carried Harry here chug away from the station and into the mist once again. He watched it disappear sadly; thinking about all those he had left behind.

"You miss them," Dumbledore had said, noting Harry's sad look.

"Yes," Harry had said. "A lot."

"You can watch them, you know."

Harry had looked up at the old man, surprised. "Really?"

"Of course," Dumbledore had said. "You're parents watched you through your entire life."

"How?" Harry had asked eagerly. "How do you do it?"

"It's simple," Albus had said, smiling at Harry's stunned look. "Simply stare at the mist and imagine who you want to see, and they will appear to you. You can see anything that it happening back on Earth, and watch and track what is happening to your friends."

Harry had looked around at his words, trying to figure out what Dumbledore meant by "stare into the mist." All there _was _was mist. But as he had looked, he found his parents and friends had disappeared, leaving him in what looked like his dorm in Gryffindor Tower. Surprised, Harry had gaped at the interior. Everything was exactly like he remembered, his four-poster bed, Gryffindor hangings, everything. The only difference was that his bed was the only one. Ron's, Neville's, Dean's and Seamus's beds were sadly absent.

Dumbledore had examined the room with interest. "Your dorm," he had said. "How curious that this is how the afterlife shaped for you. Hogwarts must have meant a lot to you."

"It did," Harry had said sincerely, remembering how Hogwarts had been a home to him, his real home after his eleven years at the Dursleys. He remembered marking the days off till Hogwarts on the calendar in his room, how happy he always was when he arrived once again in his familiar dorm.

Dumbledore had smiled at him. "I'm glad," he had said. "I will leave you to get comfortable. If you need me, all you need is go in search of me and you'll find me without much trouble." Harry nodded to him, and the former Headmaster left the dormitory without another word, leaving Harry alone.

Harry had sat down on his four-poster gingerly, as if he couldn't quite believe it was truly there. It had been over a year since he had slept in it. Voldemort's take over the Ministry had prevented him from coming back to Hogwarts for his seventh year. It felt good to lay on the familiar mattress again.

He had laid there for a long while, simply staring at the ceiling, marveling at what had all happened to him. He still not quite wrapped his head around it all. He wish he could tell Ron about it.

Ron. Hermione. Ginny.

He had sat up at the thought, a sudden jolt of sadness running through him. He might be dead, but it seemed he was not immune to sadness. He looked around, trying to locate the patch of mist that Dumbledore had mentioned. Harry could see no other conclusion for the Headmaster's instruction of "simply stare into the mist," than to simply find a patch of mist and stare into it.

He had located it without much trouble. It was a fairly big space, swirling with the unreal looking whiteness in the place of what should be the dorm window. Sitting down in front of it, crossing his legs, Harry had stared into, thinking of all those he had left behind. They had all appeared in the mist for him to see, all of them alive, much to the relief of Harry, though it pained him to see them.

And that is how he ended up where he was now, his flashback of all that had happened to him since he had entered the afterlife coming to an end. Sadly, he focused on Ginny, watching her in the mist as she appeared, sitting in the magical tent in the Forest of Dean, waiting for Ron and Hermione to arrive. He missed her more than he had ever imagined possible, and staring at her only made it worse. But Harry could not seem to tear himself away.

A soft knock on the door made him jump. "Come in," he called, a flood of happiness flowing through him as Lily entered, her red hair bouncing around her as she came over to him, sitting down next to him on the floor. "Hey," she said, tucking a strand of messy black hair behind his ear. "How are you doing."

"Okay," Harry said, watching the image of Ginny. "It's…a lot to get used to."

Lily nodded understandingly. "It is," she said. "But if you ever want to talk about something, James and I are always here for you."

Harry smiled at her at this. The concept of having parents to talk to about his troubles was so new to him. He was grateful for his mother for offering it. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," she said.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, watching the image of Ginny, now joined by Neville and Luna, the three of them wrapping their arms around each other comfortingly, silent tears running down Ginny's cheeks. The sight of her crying made Harry want to cry too. She was crying. Crying over _him._

"You miss them," Lily whispered.

"Yes," Harry said softly, biting his lip. "Yes, I do."

He watched Ginny for a moment longer, before turning to his mother, emerald eyes shinny with wet tears. "Did I make the right decision mom?" he whispered to her.

Lily looked at him straight on, her own emerald eyes locking with his. "Of course you did, honey," she said reassuringly. "Don't you ever doubt yourself on that."

"But what if I didn't?" Harry asked, watching the image of his friends painfully. "What if I chose wrong? What if I was supposed to go back, and now that I haven't Voldemort will win, and they'll all be killed, and it'll be all my fault…" he trailed off, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

"Look at me," Lily said.

Harry simply stared at his shoes.

"Look at me," Lily demanded again, putting her finger under his chin and swiveling his face to look at her.

"There is no right or wrong decision, Harry," she said firmly. "I want you to understand that. There is _no _right or wrong path. There is only what you choose. You have some good friends back there. Strong friends. They won't give up. They'll fight, and they'll prevail. I know it. So stop doubting yourself, I can't stand my son looking so down in the dumps."

She hugged him, and Harry leaned into her, taking in her scent and finding himself comforted for the first time in a long while. Maybe she was right. Maybe it would still turn out okay.

"Thanks mom," he whispered.

"You're welcome sweetie," she whispered back.


	4. For Harry

**(A/N: Alright, this is where things get fun! **** Enjoy!)**

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The wind whistled soothingly through the trees in the Forest of Dean, bringing a nice cool breeze into the small, crowded clearing. It was pleasant and welcome, but none of the many witches in wizards gathered amongst the trees stopped to admire it. It was not a time to remark on the fine weather. It was a time of mourning, a time of war.

After their hasty retreat from Hogwarts, Hermione had set up the magically expanding tent, with help from Ron and Mr. Weasley. Everyone had settled in, though few had any belongings to account for. Then the teachers and Order members gathered and set up the enchantments around the clearing, ensuring that they would not be found.

This being done, no one knew quite what to do with themselves. No one really talked. Most walked around aimlessly or sat amongst friends with a glazed expression, mourning the loss of their loved ones.

After a little while, McGonagall created a large bonfire in the middle of the clearing, Hagrid and some of the teachers bringing over some fallen trees to use as seats. Everyone had gathered listlessly around it, staring into the crackling flames, at loss at what to do now.

They had lost their hero. Their savior. The Chosen One.

They had lost Harry Potter.

Truly, all hope must be lost. They could not possibly defeat Voldemort without him. They were simply fooling themselves, thinking this small army could possible defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The only reason they had even had any hope at all before was because they had had Harry. Harry had been the symbol of hope amongst them all. If he was still alive and fighting, then there was still a chance. Without him they were…lost.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of sitting around, useless and depressed, McGonagall stood, an expression of defeat written across her face.

"Well everyone," she said, her tired eyes scanning the filled clearing and taking in the battered and battle-worn students and fighters in front of her. "Vol—"

"Don't say his name Professor!" Ron interrupted, jumping to his feet.

McGonagall looked at him, her normal disapproving expression returning. "And why in heavens not Mr. Weasley?" she demanded. "Fear of a name only increases—"

"-fear of a name itself, yes I know Professor," Ron said respectfully. "But the name is tabooed. That's how the Snatchers were able to find so many Muggle-borns. If you say his name, they can tell exactly where you are. They found Harry, Hermione and I that way while we were on the run. Twice. We barely managed to get away."

This announcement caused much muttering amongst the crowd, a couple letting out cries of "That's how they found me!" and other exclamations along those lines. McGonagall looked surprised.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," she said sincerely as Ron sat back down. "I was unaware of that. We will make it a rule from now on in that case that we do not use the Dark Lord's name aloud. Ever." She looked around the clearing with a critical eye, and everyone nodded in agreement, some looking relieved that they would not be speaking the feared name aloud.

"Good," McGonagall said briskly when she was satisfied that the point was made. "That being said, we must move onto the pressing issue at hand. You-Know-Who has no doubt taken over Hogwarts by now. We are all that is left, we are assuming, of the resistance against him. It will be up to us to fight him, but to do so; we must have some sort of a plan. After the battle we are in no shape to simply attack him straight on. I think it is clear it will get us nowhere. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

She looked around, obviously hoping against hope that someone had it all figured out, and it would be no problem. But no one stood up.

She sighed, stress pulling at her features and breaking through the careful passive façade that she had managed to muster up until that point. "I suppose it wasn't going to be that easy," she said sadly. "Nevertheless, we cannot give up. You-Know-Who must not be allowed to gain control of the Wizarding World at all costs. I know I speak for all of you when I say we will stop him, or die trying." She sat back down, hard, looking like she was a few seconds away from breaking down and burying her face in her hands. But she kept her posture straight, trying her best to stay brave.

Silence met her speech. Then Ron stood again, pulling Hermione to her feet beside him.

"I know you guys are all depressed," he said, stating the obvious. "and I know Harry's death kind of hit us all a little hard." He swallowed at this tidbit, fighting back tears. A couple people bowed their heads, and a chocking sound escaped Ginny's throat.

"But if I know one thing," he continued, squeezing Hermione's hand, "it's that he would not have wanted us to give up. He would have wanted us to keep fighting. You-Know-Who can do a lot of things, but he can never break our spirits, and he can never truly understand what Harry stood for. He stood for hope. He was our leader, our role model. He was never bigheaded; he never basked in his fame. He was humble and brought out the best in all of us. We didn't elect him as the leader of the DA for nothing. He didn't beat You-Know-Who in the graveyard by luck. Harry was the best, most selfless and wonderful guy I knew. He was my best mate."

He bit his lip, emotion threatening to take over. "We can't let all he has done for us go to waste," he said, voice wavering a little bit. "We can't let him die in vain. He died, gave himself up to You-Know-Who—and we all know that that two-faced little snake was lying, we know Harry didn't die running away—knowing that we would take up the burden. That we would finish the task where he left off. We can't let him down. Harry never let us down, never. We can't give up." His voice broke. "We just can't." He managed to get out, trembling as Hermione held his hand supportingly.

Silence met his words. Then after a few moments, Seamus stood up. "I'm Seamus, for those of you who don't know me," he said. "And I shared a dorm with Harry all my years in Hogwarts. And don't get me wrong…I…I really can't quite believe that Harry's really gone. It's seems so unreal, so wrong. He should never have died." He paused, focusing on his shoes. "But there is just one thing that just doesn't add up," he continued, looking up at Ron and Hermione, somewhat accusingly. "You three came into Hogwarts tonight, looking for something. We identified it as the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. Then the war started, and you all disappeared. Something tells me you weren't just hiding from You-Know-Who this whole time you were missing before you showed up at Hogwarts. You've been up to something. Why can't you tell us?"

Murmurs of agreement rang through the group as Seamus sat back down. A couple members of the Order broke off to talk amongst themselves, no doubt discussing the fact that Harry and his two closest friends had refused to tell them what Dumbledore had confided in them to do.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Dumbledore had told them strictly not to tell anyone about the mission he had left them with. But now that all the Horcruxes had been destroyed and Harry was dead…

Before they could come to a decision, Neville stood up, bringing the crowd under control. He'd become the unofficial leader of the DA by his actions during the previous year at Hogwarts, the year overrun by Death Eaters. The students all held respect for him that they had never had before, and Neville was a little surprised by the power he seemed to now hold, though he tried his best not to show it.

He faced Ron and Hermione, his expression betraying more curiosity than accusation. "I saw Harry before he died," he said quietly. "I was possibly the last one to talk to him before he went to the forest and gave himself up."

Stony silence met his words as Neville paused. "I had no idea what he was doing," he continued. "If I had, I would have stopped him. Would have done everything in my power to stop him. But I didn't know. And he stopped me while I was collecting bodies, and asked me to do something. Something sort of strange. He said if I got the chance, I should kill You-Know-Who's giant snake. He didn't tell me why, only that Ron and Hermione knew to do it too, and that is was important. Of course, I said I would without doubting him for a moment. This was Harry Potter. I wasn't about to pry. I said sure without even considering asking why he wanted me too. And at the first chance I got, I killed the snake."

He stopped, and stared at Ron and Hermione. "I killed the snake like Harry asked, by I don't know why it was so important. What were you two and Harry up to? What was so crucial that you disappeared for so long and the snake must be killed? Why can't you _tell_ us?"

He finished his speech, gaze never wavering from the witch and wizard before him. Unlike Seamus, he did not sit back down.

Ron hesitated, giving Hermione a sidelong glance. But she too liked uncertain.

"Will you give us a moment?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he dragged Hermione off with him to the edge of the clearing, out of earshot.

"What should we do?" he whispered in undertone to her, urgency in his voice. "Should we tell them about the Horcruxes? And how Dumbledore told us not to tell anyone?"

"I…I don't know," Hermione said truthfully, looking extremely conflicted and distressed. "Dumbledore said not to tell anyone at all costs, but now that they've all been destroyed, and now that Harry's d-dead…" she trailed off, looking down at her shoes as a tear drop fell, splattering onto a dead leaf below her.

Ron took this in, mind whirling. Making his decision, he set his jaw. "We'll tell them," he decided, unable to come up with a better decision on the spur of the moment, and under the pressure. "They deserve to know. They've followed Harry and us blindly all this way, hoping we had a plan. All the Horcruxes are destroyed. We've completed that part of the mission, with the help of Neville. I think it's safe to tell them," he paused. "And…and I don't really want to keep it secret anymore," he added after a moment, a little sheepishly.

Hermione nodded, meeting his gaze. "I think you're right," she whispered. "They deserve to know."

Nodding, Ron slipped his hand into hers, and the two of them walked back to the others.

"Alright," Ron said, rooting his feet firmly into the dirt as he faced the crowd, taking a big breath. "We'll tell you what we've been doing for so long."

He paused, getting his bearings as murmurs of anticipation met his words, everyone shifting and holding their breath as they waited for him to explain.

"Dumbledore gave us a mission," Ron began. "Well, Harry a mission, that he said he could confide only in us two, and we could not tell anyone about it at all costs."

"Why?" Someone called, and there were mutters of agreement.

"Because he wanted it to stay a secret. He wanted there to be as small as possible possibility that You-Know-Who would find out what we were doing," Hermione explained. "And that meant confiding in as little people as possible."

"Dumbledore knew something about You-Know-Who," Ron continued. "Something that very few people knew about him. You-Know-Who had created a Horcrux. Six Horcruxes, to be exact.

There were murmurs of shock throughout the crowd, mixed with those of confusion. The majority of the group had never heard of the word.

"What's a Horcrux?" Cho called.

"A Horcrux is a bit of someone's soul," Hermione explained. "A bit placed in an object so that while that object was intact, the person who created it will not die. But to split their soul, the person must commit an act of evil. Murder. It's Dark Magic, very Dark Magic, and leaves your soul extremely unstable."

The students took this all in slowly, most just gaping in shock. The majority of the teachers and Order members who knew what a Horcrux was looked genuinely horrified.

"So…You-Know-Who made sixth of these things?" Neville piped up, face pale. "And while they exist he can't die?"

Hermione nodded. "Exactly," she said. "That's what we've been doing this whole time. We've been hunting Horcruxes. Locating them and destroying them, so that we have some sort of chance of defeating him."

"They weren't exactly _easy _to destroy either," Ron added for good measure. "Or locate for that matter. We need basilisk venom-or whatever else were the few things that you mentioned that could destroy them." He smiled sheepishly at Hermione.

Hermione frowned at him. " Fiendfyre and basilisk venom are two of a small list of things that can destroy Horcruxes, and the rest are extremely dangerous as well," she said. "And of course we didn't have access to any basilisk fangs or venom, and there was no way to us Fiendfyre safely, so we were kind of stuck. It's a miracle we _found _and _identified _all the Horcruxes, let alone destroy them."

"Did you destroy them all then?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Ron said, grinning slightly, and a couple people cheered. "They've all been destroyed. The snake was the last one."

"But…" Neville cut in, looking confused. "If the snake was the last Horcrux, how did I destroy it? And how did you destroy all the rest if you didn't have the materials like you said?"

"_That's _how you were able to destroy it, Neville," Hermione said, pointing at him.

Neville looked down, surprised flickering across his face as he examined the Sword of Gryffindor clutched in his hands with new awe, the shinny blade reflecting his stunned face in the firelight.

"This?" he asked in disbelief, holding the jeweled sword up in front of him. "The Sword of Gryffindor can destroy Horcruxes? How?"

"The Sword is Goblin-made," Hermione explained, smiling a little at Neville's awe. "It only takes in in which will make it stronger."

"Harry killed the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets with the Sword in his second year," Ron picked up. "In the roof of it's mouth. So it took in the basilisk venom, and now has the same prosperities."

A stunned silence met his words as everyone took this flow of sudden information in.

"Okay, that's amazing and all," Seamus piped up suddenly. "But that doesn't explain how you were able to destroy the others."

"Well, we only really destroyed three," Hermione admitted. "Harry destroyed one in the Chamber of Secrets, and Dumbledore had managed to locate and destroy another. And Neville killed the sixth. We only found and destroyed the three others."

"Yeah, alright," Seamus said. "But how did you destroy them if you didn't have the resources like you said?" 

"Well, we used the sword," Hermione said, like this was obvious. "On one of them, at least. Ron and I destroyed one with a basilisk fang in the Chamber during the battle, and Vincent Crabbe destroyed the other accidentally, actually. He was trying to kill us with Fiendfyre."

"But how did you get the Sword?" Ginny asked, aghast. "Neville, Luna and I tried to steal it from Snape's office for you, since the Ministry refused to give it to you, but we got caught and Snape moved it somewhere."

Hermione glanced at Ron, unsure of how to explain how they had gained possession of the Sword.

"We're…not entirely sure how we got the Sword ourselves," Ron said truthfully.

"How can you not know? You got it!" George said.

"Well, it was given to us," Ron explained. "Harry saw this Patronus one night, of a doe. It wasn't anyone's he knew, but he followed it, and it led him to the Sword, frozen in a pool. We never did figure out who gave it to us." He shrugged, and this time no other questions met his explanation.

"So is that it?" Lavender asked. "Is that all you've been doing this whole time?"

"Pretty much," Hermione sighed. "Dumbledore didn't give us much to work with, but we knew that the only way we would ever have a chance at beating You-Know-Who, it would be only after we destroyed all the Horcruxes. And now that they're gone…well, he can be killed. He's no longer invincible."

She squeezed Ron's hand and the two of them sat down, their explanation finished.

A short silence met their confession, until McGonagall once again stood. "I think it is time we all retire for the night," she suggested. "It has been a long day, and we have all suffered injuries from the battle. Sleep will do us good. We cannot defeat He Who Must Not Be Named while we are sleep deprived. Those of you who do not wish to sleep in the tent may sleep outside. It is highly recommended. Even though the tent expands, there are a _lot _of people here. So off to bed, all of you, chop chop! Grown ups and seventh years' too. Just because you're no longer underage doesn't mean you need sleep any less!"

Everyone got to their feet and dispersed at this, not wanting to sit by the fire any longer. Mixed feeling floated around the resistance group after the discussion. Some felt a glimmer of hope by the fact that Voldemort was, in fact, no longer invincible and could be killed. But on the flip side, they were no closer to an offensive strategy that they were of bringing Harry back from the dead.

After a couple minutes, only Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were left around the bonfire. None of them wanted to go to bed, none of them even felt remotely sleepy, even after the battle. They all sat close to each other, staring into the flames silently, knowing the same thing was on each of their thoughts.

Harry.

Ginny sniffled, pulling her legs up to her chin. "I just can't believe he's gone," she whispered, silent tears cascading down her face uncontrollably as the fact seemed to finally hit her. There was nothing to distract her, nothing to keep the horrid thought from entering her head any longer. She had used the battle before, the need to collect bodies and get out of Hogwarts. Then she had used the need for getting everyone together and situated at the Forest. And after that she had used the conversations at the bonfire to redirect her mind from the image of Harry's dead body, lying limp in Hagrid's arms. Eyes closed. Heart still. Body cold. Dead.

But now she could evade it no longer, and the true pain and loss hit her at full force. She had loved him. Loved him more than she had ever loved anyone in the sixteen years of her life. She had wanted to spend her entire life with him. She had told herself she would, deep inside her. She had promised herself that when all this was over and Harry had prevailed and Voldemort lay dead at his feet, they would be together, and nothing would ever separate them.

But she had been lying to herself, hoping against hope that the worst wouldn't happen. That Harry would not die. He had escaped so many times, it seemed like he would always be alive, just slipping through Voldemort's grasp.

But not this time. This time, there was no escape. Harry was dead. Gone.

Forever.

Hermione was the next to break down, burying herself into Ron's shoulder as the sobs came, long and heavy. She didn't hold back this time, didn't even try to hide the tears. Harry had been her best friend for seven years. He had always been there for her, faithful and loyal. She knew he would never backstab her, never turn her away or be mean or spiteful. He was the kindest and selfless person she knew. He had been there for her when Ron had been dating Lavender and she had been a mess. He had been there for her whenever she had had even the slightest of troubles. He had always been there. Dependable.

But now he was gone. Dead. And he would never be there for her again. She would never see his familiar face again, never those kind green eyes, never fix his broken glasses or feel that rush of happiness when she saw him again after a long summer. She would never help him with his homework again, or spend time studying out by the lake with him during a particular nice spring day.

Ron, too, found himself crying, small little sobs escaping his lips as he cradled Hermione in his arms, tears falling down his face and rolling off his chin as he stared into the fire, flashbacks of all his wonderful times with Harry going through his mind. When he first met him, on the train. How they had shared Harry's candy, how generous he had been. How carefree they had been then. Young. Then Harry and him being chased by giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest, and flying his dads car. Going back in time to save Sirius, the Yule Ball, his and Harry's fight—what a prat he had been. He wished he could take all the nasty words back, every one of them. He would, if it would mean he could spend some more time with Harry. Could say goodbye.

He started to shake a little, as memories of the two of them making mischief at the Burrow together, messing up their potions together, writing down random answers to their homework together. And then all those days they had been together in the tent. Oh, how he had taken them for granted. How he had hated being in that tent, hated being stuck with just Harry and Hermione, and how he had finally got fed up, yelled and left. He regretted that, regretted that with every inch of his being. He would give anything, absolutely anything, to have one more horrid day with Harry in that smelly tent. Anything.

He would give anything just to see him again.

Neville stared down at the Sword of Gryffindor, still clutched in his hands. He had not let go of it since he had retrieved it from the Sorting Hat. He was afraid if he put it down for a second, he might lose it. He always lost everything, and he could not afford to lose a prize like this. But staring at it made him think more of Harry, even though he was trying with every inch of his being not to think about him, or the crying people around him.

Staring at the Sword made Neville imagine Harry wielding it, killing the giant snake in the Chamber of Secrets. Holding at it made him think about how his friend had held this very Sword, held it only five years ago. And probably again this year, destroying Horcruxes with it. The fact that the dead boy had held the very thing he was now touching made Neville feel sick. And sad. The undeniable sadness that had taken over his friends rushed over him too as he stared at the Sword, tears starting to form themselves unwillingly in his eyes.

Harry had been his role model. His friend. When Neville messed up, did something stupid or lost his toad, or blew up his potion in his face, Harry had never laughed along with the others. He had never been mean or spiteful towards him, never bullied him or jinxed him. Harry had always been there to lend him the hand, to help him find his toad, clean up the potion. He had always been nice. Almost abnormally nice and friendly towards Neville, and he could not help looking up to the boy. In fact, his feelings towards Harry had only grown, as Harry became even more famous, achieved even greater feats. And doing so humbly, unwillingly. Always trying to find a way out of the spotlight. Neville had never known someone like Harry.

And now he was gone. The boy, the wonderful selfless and humble role model that Neville had looked up to and trusted since his first day at Hogwarts, was dead. And now Neville was the leader of the DA, now he had the Sword of Gryffindor. He was a role model for the younger students now. The thought sickened Neville even further. He would never be a role model like Harry. He wished, with all his heart, that Harry had never died. That Voldemort was already dead, and everything could be perfect. No problems. Everything could go back to normal.

Why did he have to die?

Next to Neville, Luna stared into the fire, focusing on the embers, head slightly cocked. Unlike everyone else, she did not cry. She did not mourn or wish that everything could be different. She was sad, of course. Just as sad as when her mother had died, and she did wish she could be with Harry again. The boy that had always been nice to her. That had offered to help find her missing belongings, the boy that had never called her Looney, or made fun of her. The boy that had asked her to Slughorn's party, and had always listened to her insights. The boy that had been her first ever friend.

But he was gone now, and Luna had already accepted this fact. She could not change what had happened, and she saw no use in crying over something she could not change. Instead, she focused on the embers, imagining Harry, dressed in comfortable robes, skipping along fluffy white clouds with his parents, Dumbledore, Fred, Tonks, Sirius and Lupin, surrounded by merry angels singing happy music. She imagined him smiling at her like he always did and telling her not to be sad, and to watch out for Nargles.

She smiled at that thought, and looked at her friends. Hermione still had her face pressed into Ron's shirt, the fabric damp from her tears. Ron was staring listlessly off into the distance, silent tears cascading down his cheeks. Ginny had her face hidden by her long red hair, but Luna could hear her sobs and see her body shake. Neville was simply staring at the jeweled sword in his hands, sobbing gently.

Luna frowned at the image. She was the only one not crying. Thinking of Harry, she imagined him seeing his friends like this. She didn't think he'd like what he'd see.

"Don't be sad," Luna said suddenly, causing Neville to jump at the sudden sound of speech. Ginny looked up from her hands, eyes red and puffy. A brief flash of confusion flickering across her face. Ron and Hermione simply stared at her.

"What did you say?" Hermione asked, baffled.

"Don't be sad," Luna repeated, unruffled.

"Luna," Ginny said slowly, staring at the girl like she was an alien from another planet that had just dropped into their midst. "Harry is _dead. _Deceased. Gone." Her bottom lip trembled, and she looked at the brink of tears again at her own words

"I know," Luna said matter-o-factly. "But that doesn't mean you should be sad."

"And why in the heavens not?" Hermione snapped.

"I don't think Harry would have wanted us to be sad," Luna said softly.

Everyone just stared at her, stunned into silence.

Then Ron started laughing.

"Luna," he chuckled, "You're wonderful. I don't know what I'd do without you." He grinned, looking at Hermione, Ginny and Neville in turn. "She's right," he whispered. "Harry wouldn't have wanted us to be sad. He wouldn't want us to sit around and sob like little girls. He'd want us to stay strong, to make an example and take the lead now that he's gone."

Hermione shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "He wouldn't like seeing us upset," she admitted. "He would have hated it. He never liked causing anyone pain."

"No," Neville whispered. "You're right. He would have told us that we had to move on. Step up to the challenge and take his place."

"He would have told us to keep it together," Ginny said softly. "To not mourn him, but remember him instead. Remember who he was, and what he did, and the example he set. He would have wanted us to live up to that example, and spread it on to the next generations." She looked up to the sky, eyes sparkling.

"He would want us to be happy," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"That's not going to stop me from missing him any less," Hermione added softly after a moment of silence.

"No," Ron said. "No it won't. It won't stop any of us from missing him, or mourning him. But we need to stay strong, like he'd want us to be. We need to stay the solid base of the resistance, and find out a way to defeat You-Know-Who."

Pushing himself off the log he had been sitting on, he put his hand out in the air. He waited for a moment, as the four others simply stared at him. Then Luna joined him, placing her hand in the air. Hermione followed her, placing her hand on top of Ron's. Neville slowly pushed himself to his feet and placed his hand firmly in the circle of people.

Ginny alone stayed seated, lip quivering as she stared at her feet.

"Ginny?" Ron whispered soothingly.

"Do you think…he would be proud of us?" Ginny asked softly, locking gazes with her older brother, a deep pain beyond her years shinning in her eyes.

"Yes," Ron said without hesitation. "Yes he would be. And he would be proud of you. He's always been proud of you, Ginny. He loved you. More than I think you ever realized."

"I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him," she chocked, voice cracking.

"I know," Ron said, the empathy in his voice clear. "And I know he wanted to too. But the best thing we can do for him now is stay strong, and take up the mission where he left off."

Ginny stared at him for a long time, eyes welling with tears. But then she nodded, pulling herself to her feet and putting a shaking hand into the circle.

"For Harry," she whispered.

"For Harry," they all repeated solemnly, throwing their hands into the air together in silence, faces grim.

"I don't care how many people You-Know-Who has killed," Ron growled when they had finished, hand curling into fists. "He killed Harry. And he is going _down._"

Hermione smiled weakly at him, opening her mouth to answer—

But broke off as a loud crack resounded all around them.

All five of them froze, listening.

There was a deafening, tense silence for a long moment.

Another crack sounded to their left.

Hermione took off in the direction of the sound, the rest of them following close behind. She stopped behind a large tree, motioning with her hand for them to freeze. "Edge of the enchantments," she whispered.

They all stayed perfectly still, staring out into the dark forest in front of them, eyes scanning the greenery.

And then another crack sounded, followed by the sound of leafs rustling and crunching under foot.

Everyone held their breath, eyes wide as a figure stepped out from the trees.

He was tall, wearing tattered black robes, normally slicked-back blond hair disheveled. He looked around, eyes wide and slightly scared, passing over the group of five without seeing them, and everyone saw his face for the first time.

All five of them gasped.

It was Draco Malfoy.


	5. An Unlikely Ally

**(A/N: Hey! Sorry I've taken a little while to update. My life is so jam-packed I feel like I'm living at my school! And my schedules not letting up any time soon so my updates may unfortunately vary in speed. Special thanks to Paramore-Is-A-Band-People and laughandlove for reviewing. As for the rest of you, I was sad. What, do you guys not like cliffies? C'mon! Suspense! LOL, please review it makes my day!)**

"What is _he _doing here?"

"How did he find us?"

"It can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"Of all people…."

"He's a Death Eater!"

"What should we do?"

The five DA members broke into frantic whispers at the sight of the seventeen-year-old boy just a couple feet away from them, eyes wild and white-blond hair disheveled, clearly lost and unsure.

Draco Malfoy. The infamous Slytherin boy that had been the enemy of Harry and his friends for all their years at Hogwarts. Son of Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater, and Draco himself now a Death Eater as well.

What was _he _doing here?

Ron stared in disbelievement at the blond boy, surprise starting to give way to anger and hatred as everyone whispered in astonishment about the sudden turn of events.

"We should take him prisoner," he snarled, eyes flashing as his surprise gave way completely to red hot fury at the Slytherin that had made fun of his family his entire school career.

"What?" Ginny said, aghast.

"We should take him prisoner," Ron repeated, whipping his head around to face the other four. "He's a Death Eater, and he's pretty much walked right into our hands! He works for You-Know-Who! He's our enemy. We should take him prisoner and force information out of him!"

"No…" Hermione said, shaking her head slowly. "That's not right."

Ron glared at her. "And why in the heavens not? This is the kid who called you a Mudblood for Merlin's sake!"

"Still," Hermione said calmly. "I don't think it's right to take him prisoner. If we do that, we won't be any better than You-Know-Who himself, will we?"

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but didn't seem to know quite what to say to this, so he closed it sulkily.

"Still," he said. "He deserves it."

"What should we do then?" Neville asked, studying Draco. "He seems…lost…but do you really think that it's a coincidence that he wound up here, right by our camp?"

"It does seem kind of fishy…" Hermione admitted. "But if he knew we were here, don't you think he would have brought a couple Death Eater friends with him?"

"They could be around here somewhere, and we just can't see him," Ron pointed out.

"He looks scared," Luna said softly, studying Malfoy curiously, head slightly cocked as she watched him walk slowly parallel to them, still just outside the enchantments.

"Yeah…but he could be faking it," Ginny said.

"I don't think he is," Luna said thoughtfully. "I can tell. In his eyes. He's here alone…and with his own purposes, not the Dark Lord's."

"I don't know Luna…" Neville said doubtfully. "I think we should just let him wander. As long as he doesn't find his way inside the enchantments, it's not really our problem."

"I agree with that plan," Ron agreed, raising his hand. "We do not show ourselves, and hope he somehow gets killed or eaten by a wolf."

"That's mean," Luna said, frowning. "I think we should at least talk to him." And before anyone could stop her, she started to walk over to Draco.

"Wait! Luna no!" Hermione exclaimed, darting after her, but she was too late. Luna had already crossed the invisible enchantment barrier.

"Hello," Luna said cheerfully, causing Draco to jump violently, whirling around with a yelp. Shakily he pointed his mothers' wand at Luna, eyes wide.

It took him a moment to process who it was before him.

"Lovegood?" he said in surprise, lowering his wand slightly.

"Hello Draco," Luna said brightly, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet. "We were just wondering what you were doing here."

Draco's brow furrowed. "'We'?" he echoed, looking around frantically for other people but seeing none.

"We," Luna said, nodding. She turned around, smiling at Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny. "C'mon you guys," she said to them, causing Draco to look around in confusion once more.

The four of them hesitated for a moment, before stepping out of the enchantments next to Luna, wands clutched carefully in their hands.

Draco's eyes widened at the sight of them, raising his wand protectively in front of him. Slowly, he took a step back.

They two sides stared at each other for a long moment, the five DA members studying him warily, and Draco watching them skittishly.

It was Draco who finally ended the stare down, carefully lowering his wand a pointing it to his side. Everyone tensed except for Luna, expecting him to try something, but he simply murmured a harmless spell, a thin jet of multi-colored light bursting out of the tip of him mother's wand. All six of them watched as is soared through the trees and then exploded into nothing in a burst of sparks as it hit the enchantments.

Realization flickering through Draco's eyes, he returned his wand to its defensive position. "So that's why I couldn't find you," he said, sounding much like his old self but not quite. Quieter, more skittish and unsure.

Ron glared at him, stepping forward accusingly, wand pointed squarely at Malfoy's face. "How did you find us?" he growled.

Draco bit his lip awkwardly. "I heard someone say something about the 'Forest of Dean' during the battle," he admitted, his voice sounding as truthful as any of them had ever heard it. "I left soon afterward. My father shooed me and my mother out and we Apparated back to the manor as soon as possible."

"What, didn't stay to help your master kill us all?" Ron spat.

Draco met his eyes, face solemn, not even remotely offended by Ron's words. Despite himself, Ron seemed surprised by his enemy's sudden change in personality.

"I don't _want_ to work for him anymore," Draco said firmly, voice shaking slightly. "I haven't wanted to ever since he gave me the task to kill Dumbledore. My parents don't want to either. They just want the war to end, but none of us have a choice. Once you're in the service of the Dark Lord, you can't just back out."

He looked down at his shoes, not even bothering to keep his wand up to protect himself anymore. "I ran away," he said, and Ron flinched in surprise. "I didn't come here on orders, I came on my own free will. I don't care about the Dark Lord anymore. I've seen what he can do, and I don't like it. I don't want him to win, and I don't want to serve him anymore. My mother wanted me to stay in the manor, just stay out of harms way and hope he wouldn't come and ask something of me. But I can't do that. I just can't stay there and worry and hope that he won't make me go out and…and kill someone. Or do something even worse. I don't want to live in constant, confined fear."

He looked up, meeting Ron's eyes. "So I ran away," he said. "Away from the manor. I don't want to serve the Dark Lord anymore so I figured the only thing left to do is…well, join the resistance against him. He was probably going to kill me eventually anyway, so I might as well die fighting him then die his scared, semi-devoted servant."

He looked down again, embarrassed. "Before I left I looked up the Forest of Dean," he explained. "And then I Apparated to the closest location to it that I had been to. I walked here from there, and just wandered around aimlessly…hoping I would find you guys." He paused, biting his lip. "I was probably stupid for ever thinking you guys would even consider accepting me anyway," he said sadly. "After all, I am a Death Eater, and I've been a total jerk to all of you."

He stared purposely at his shoes, lost and unwilling to look up at the five people in front of him.

"He is telling the truth," Luna said softly, looking over the four other DA members in turn. "I can tell he means well. I think we should let him at least stay with us for the night."

The four of them hesitated, not sure what to do. Draco's reputation and resume made them all wonder how trustworthy he really was…but yet his story did seem genuine. Malfoy had changed since sixth year; there was no doubt about it. He was not the same sneering Slytherin they knew so well…and this meeting only confirmed it. None of them could ever recall a time that Draco was so open to them, and none of them really believed he had the ability to fake his confession that well. Even Ron could not find himself denying Draco's change in alliance, not matter how hard he tried to find the loophole, another reason behind it all.

"Alright," the redhead said finally, causing Draco to look up in surprise. "You can stay with us, at least for the night."

A glimmer of hope and relief sparked in Draco's eyes as he stared at Ron, hardly daring to believe he was actually being—somewhat—accepted. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ron said, slightly reluctantly. He turned to the others. "You guys are okay with it, right?"

They all nodded, but still eyed Draco with slight distrust, Luna being the only exception.

"Just let me do one final precaution," Hermione said, raising her wand a pointing it beyond Draco carefully. Malfoy stared at the wooden rod worriedly, but she did not jinx him.

"_Homenum revelio."_

They all shivered as a sweeping sensation fell over them all, before quickly disappearing. Hermione lowered her wand.

"We're alone," she confirmed. "There's no Death Eaters waiting in ambush."

Ron nodded, slightly comforted by this fact. "Can you lift the enchantments to let him in?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded, turning around and pointing her wand at the clearing that was still invisible to the Slytherin. Whispering barely intelligible words under her breath, a barely-noticeable haze before them lifted slightly.

She lowered her wand and nodded to Ron.

"Alright," Ron said, turning back to Malfoy. "Come with us. And don't try anything. We still out-number you."

Draco nodded, not even throwing a snide comment back at Ron's words. Soundlessly, he followed Ron and Hermione into the clearing, Neville, Ginny and Luna walking in securely behind him. Once inside, Hermione once again raised her wand and replaced the enchantments.

The blond boy surveyed the clearing with slight interest, taking in the very small-looking expandable tent, the now-dying fire, and large area. He looked a little disappointed by what he saw. "I expected…" he started, before trailing off.

"More?" Ginny guessed. "Yeah, well, tough. You didn't think we'd have a castle with a moat, did you?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know what I expected," he said. "I guess I just hoped you guys had more of a resistance going. How many people do you have?"

An uncomfortable silence met his words. "Not a ton," Ron admitted grudgingly.

Draco nodded, taking this in. "I guess that makes sense, after the battle and all," he mused.

"Harry's death hit us a little hard," Hermione said softly.

Malfoy bit his lip, looking slightly uncomfortable at this. He said nothing.

A long, very uncomfortable and awkward silence followed, until Luna finally piped up. "Why don't we sit by the fire?" she suggested. "Since I doubt any of us are actually going to sleep."

They all agreed and trudged down to the rapidly dying fire, sitting down on the logs. Draco awkwardly sat apart from the others, clearly uncomfortable with his situation. For lack of something to do, Hermione rekindled the flame with her wand, staring at it to avoid looking at Malfoy.

After a long, extended quiet, Draco spoke.

"I wish it never happened, you know," he said softly, his words barely carrying. All five of them looked at him in surprise, causing him to cringe slightly under their gazes.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, speaking for the first time in a while.

"Potter's…Harry's…death," Malfoy said, looking down awkwardly at his dirty hands. "I wished it never happened."

They all took this in slowly, all of them slightly shocked. Harry and Draco had always been enemies. They had always thought that Malfoy would have wanted Harry dead. But here he was, Draco Malfoy, saying he wished Harry hadn't died.

And using Harry's first name.

When no one responded, Malfoy took a deep breath and continued. "I was jealous of him," he admitted, staring into the fire, focusing on the glowing embers. "After he refused to be my friend, I despised him. Popular, famous Potter. Gets all the attention, all the praise. Qudditch star. Gryffindor hero. Conquer of the Dark Lord. I could never be anything compared to him, and I hated that. So I bullied him, used my pureblood status to up my reputation amongst my House, trying to make my own name next to his. But no matter what I did, he was always better."

He frowned. "I was stupid, really," he said softly. "For being such a prat and not seeing past my own jealousy to what a perfect person he was. I think I knew, deep inside, that Harry was not just better in Qudditch then me, but that he was a better _person _than me. I just didn't want to admit it."

He fiddled with his hands awkwardly, closing his eyes. "As we grew older, my jealousy only grew," he said. "Harry became even more popular. Defeating the Dark Lord in his first year, slaying the basilisk in his second, defeating the Dark Lord and escaping death yet again in his fourth, besting my father and all the Dark Lord's Death Eaters in his fifth, and leading the army against the Dark Lord in his seventh. What were my achievements compared to that? How could I possible compare? It just wasn't fair."

He paused. "It wasn't until I became a Death Eater that things changed," he said slowly. "It was horrible. Painful when he branded me, unbearably so. It took all my will power not to cry out and after it was done, I realized that all my life my father had been a Death Eater, and I had so wanted to be just like him and be one too. But now that I was…I didn't want to. I had seen the horrors that the Dark Lord had done, and it sickened me. No matter how much I told myself I was being a coward I couldn't deny how much the act of killing scared me. This wasn't simply jinxing a first year. This was taking someone's _life_, and that, frankly, freaked me out."

He bit his lip. "And it only got worse," he said. "The Dark Lord tasked me to kill Dumbledore. I was horrified when he told me, took me aside and told me what an honor it was to do such a task for him. To kill his enemy, possibly the one wizard he was afraid of, was a task he was giving to me instead of any other Death Eater. I tried telling myself it was a good thing, but I couldn't fool myself. I knew he gave me the job to punish my father. He was sure I would fail. But I told myself I wouldn't, I couldn't. If I failed, surely he would kill me, and I couldn't die. I didn't want to die. I couldn't let him have the excuse to kill me. I needed to succeed. So I rigged the Vanishing Cabinets, putting on a brave, determined face whenever Professor Snape tried to pry into what I was doing. But inside I was terrified. I would break down and cry in the Room of Requirement some days, discouraged and afraid that I would never get the Cabinet to work."

He took a big breath. "Harry caught me once," he said. "In the bathroom. I knew he suspected that I was up to something, and I had been extra careful to prevent him for finding out anything. But that day, I had lost it. I was hyperventilating. My deadline was nearing, and I still hadn't got the Cabinet to work. What if I failed? What if he killed me? It was petrifying. I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face, get a grip on myself. But Harry was there. I freaked, cursing him, furious that he had seen me so weak. And then he hit me with that spell, the one I had never heard of."

He grimaced. "The pain was horrible. I was lying in a puddle of my own blood, my whole body on fire. Harry was staring at me in shock, like he had no idea that that spell would do such a thing. And then Professor Snape was there, healing my wounds and yelling at Harry. All I could think about then was the pain but now…now when I look back, I think I deserved it." He shrugged, still not looking at the others.

"After that, I finally got the Cabinet to work. But after all the effort I had put into it…I felt no happiness upon completing the task, no relief. Only dread. I had finished it. That meant that soon, I would have to kill him," he swallowed. "Soon I would have to kill Dumbledore, or die myself. And then the time came, and I was petrified. Aunt Bellatrix and the others came through the Cabinet, and shot the Dark Mark in the air up by the Astronomy Tower. And then Dumbledore was there, and I disarmed him. He was helpless. At my mercy."

He shook his head, shaking slightly. "I couldn't do it," he whispered. "I stood there, pointing my wand at him, the spell in my head, and he looked at me with those blue eyes of his and said, 'You're not a killer, Draco,' and I couldn't help but think, no, I'm not. But I had to be! I had to kill him! I had to! But no matter how many times I ran the two words of the curse through my head I couldn't say them. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. I wasn't a killer."

He paused for a moment. "Then Snape appeared, and…and he did it. He said the words, there was the flash of green, and Dumbledore was falling down the stairs. I think I was in shock at that point, because I don't remember much after that. Only Professor Snape telling me to run, and the two of us fleeing the school. Flashes of light, the Forbidden Forest, the gate, Apparating, my panic, that's it. It wasn't till I was back at the Manor that it hit me. I hadn't done it. I had failed."

He swallowed. "The Dark Lord was not happy that I had failed. He punished me, but did not kill me. The job was still done. Dumbledore was dead. Things could still go as planned, and he still had uses for me. For now. He wasn't going to kill me. Yet."

He frowned again. "I pretty much stayed at the Manor after that. Locked in my room, doing my homework for lack of something to keep my mind occupied. My parents rarely let me leave the Manor. The only exciting things that would happen were Death Eater meetings…or when the Dark Lord came. It was terrifying, just being in the same _room _as him, and his snake. It was sickening too; I couldn't stand to watch…w-when he f-fed it…" his voice wavered slightly in sickening disgust and horror.

He cleared his throat, composing himself. "But then you three showed up," he said, looking at Ron and Hermione. "With those dumb Snatchers. I knew it was you, I recognized you two right away, though not Harry at first, since he had something wrong with his face."

Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione at this. "When was this?" she asked in surprise.

"We were captured," Ron explained. "By Snatchers. Hermione put a Stinging Jinx on Harry at the last minute to disguise him."

Draco nodded. "Yeah, well, then Aunt Bellatrix kept telling me to look at him more closely. Are you sure it's him? Can you see his scar? And then my dad was telling me if we were the ones to turn him in, then his blunder at the Ministry would be forgotten. Just say that, yeah, I was sure that it was Harry Potter."

"But you didn't," Hermione said slowly. "Why?"

Draco shook his head. "I couldn't," he said. "If I said it was him, I was as good as killing him, and that thought haunted me. That is would be my fault. So I said I couldn't be sure, I just couldn't be sure."

He shrugged. "It didn't matter anyway," he said softly. "You guys escaped, with our house elf. I didn't matter…but still, I found myself unwillingly glad. Already, I had decided, deep down, that I no longer wanted to serve the Dark Lord. I was just still denying it."

He sighed. "It all went pretty fast from there. Harry and you two showed up at the school, I-I felt my Dark Mark burn, and the war began. I went in search of Harry, and found him in the Room of Requirement. I wanted my wand back, since he'd stolen it from me at the Manor. That's all I had really wanted, but Crabbe got…carried away…"

Ron snorted. "He almost killed us all…" he murmured.

Draco looked sheepish. "He shouldn't have done that," he said. "It was his fault really. It…it was shocking that he died though."

"Yeah, and Harry saved your sorry little butt," Ron said.

Malfoy didn't even bother denying it. "Yes, he did," he admitted. "And I didn't even thank him. I just ran away. And that's…that's the last time I saw him alive." He swallowed. "When I…when I saw him in Hagrid's arms…that's all I could think of. What a prat I'd been to him all these years, and how just that night he'd saved my life, and I hadn't even thanked him. And now he was dead."

He looked up at the five of him, regret shinning in his eyes. "It was at that moment that I stopped denying that I no longer wanted to be a Death Eater," he said. "Harry didn't deserve to die. He shouldn't have died. If anyone should have died, it should have been me. I deserved it. I had done horrible things, and made unforgivable choices. Not him."

He looked down again. "I just…just wish I could say…sorry. And…and thank you to him," he finished quietly.

A small silence met his confession. Then Hermione spoke.

"I think he would have appreciated it," she said softly.

Draco looked up at her. "Really?" he asked.

Ron nodded too. "He would have accepted it," he said confidently. "I'm sure of it."

Malfoy nodded, looking slightly more at peace at this. "I'm glad," he said softly.

The six of them sat around the fire for the rest of the night, none of them speaking a word. But an unspoken truce lay in the air between them, and not a single person in the circle doubted the other.

Not anymore.


	6. Yes or No

(A/N: And I am back! Special thanks to Cam135, Dark-Angel-172010, and luaghandlove for reviewing chapter five. Thank you for your feedback! I'm glad you're enjoying it!)

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The next morning was rather awkward for everyone. It was weird enough for Ron and Hermione to wake up in the Forest of Dean and face the reality that they were no longer staying here on the hunt for Horcruxes…and that Harry was no longer with them. But it was doubly weird for them to wake up to find themselves in the presence of Draco Malfoy, a known Death Eater and long time enemy. The same went for Neville, who had been bullied by the Slytherin since the two of them first boarded the train to go to Hogwarts in first year. Ginny too felt extremely uncomfortable, having been equally tormented. The only exception was Luna, who seemed neutral, and happily so, despite how much Malfoy had bullied her in the past.

The awkwardness of the new morning went both ways too. Draco found himself exceedingly uncomfortable waking to the surroundings of a dense forest in the company of those he had scoffed at, hated and bullied for seven years. The awkwardness only increased when he realized how exposed he felt now that he had given them his confession the night before. He no longer could hide his true self behind a mask of pride and blood purity.

And it was because of this factor that no one spoke a word to each other as each of them awoke and stretched from sleeping in their weird positions amongst the logs. The fire had long gone out, but they all still sat stonily around it regardless, in a deathly silence none of them were courageous enough to break. They could all feel the elephant in the room—even Luna, who seemed happily oblivious to it despite the tension.

So maybe that was why it was Luna who finally broke the deathly quiet, tired of the useless tension and wanting as always to make things peaceful. "It's a beautiful sunrise, isn't it?" she remarked, smiling at the giant orb above them, glimmering with rays of orange, yellow and red as it rose from the earth, turning the sky around it a stunning blend of purples and pinks. The sun.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, relieved that Luna had broken the silence and they could talk about something besides Malfoy's presence and the events of the night before…not to mention Harry's death. "It is pretty."

"Stunning," Hermione agreed flatly, her bushy hair a mess from sleep.

"I'm sure the others will be up soon," Luna observed, still watching the sun rise into the sky with a small smile, eyes twinkling. "It's most likely around seven by now, judging by the sun."

"'Others'?" Draco echoed, his voice rough from little use since he had fallen asleep the night before. He had visibly paled at Luna's words, which was saying something considering he already had a very light complexion. Worriedly, his eyes flickered to the expanding tent behind him.

"Yes, the others," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "The rest of the resistance. The one you said you were disappointed to see how little numbers it was made up of."

"You'll vouch for me, right?" Malfoy asked hesitantly, looking nervous and unsure. "About me being trustworthy?"

"Of course," Luna said sincerely. "We all trust you after what you said last night. Right guys?" She smiled at the others, who looked uncertain.

"I dunno," Neville said slowly, giving Malfoy a one over. "I mean, I think you were sincere last night. But none of the others heard what you said, and I doubt you want to repeat that to all of them."

Draco looked horrified. "No way!" he exclaimed.

Neville frowned. "That's what I thought," he said. "I think you're at least trustworthy enough, and sincere on switching sides. But everyone else…well, they might need some convincing."

"So no promises," Ron summarized shortly.

Draco gulped, biting his lip.

"But we'll do our best to convince them of your trust," Ginny assured him, feeling a small rush of sympathy for the Slytherin. After all, as he had said last night, his choices hadn't been exactly his own, having been highly influenced by his parents, and his life rested in the balance now that he had chosen to join them and resist Voldemort.

Draco nodded respectfully in her direction, letting a half smile briefly form on his lips. "Thanks," he thanked her roughly.

Ginny nodded back and the group feel into another silence, something that had seemed to become increasing popular amongst them since Draco's arrival. They stayed that way for a good fifteen to twenty minutes until Draco suddenly tensed, eyes wide as he felt something solid digging into the small of his back.

"I want you to stand up very slowly," a female voice growled in his ear. "And don't try anything."

Slowly, Draco got to his feet, conscious of the wand being stuck into his back. He recognized the voice, but that didn't really change his situation.

"What are you doing here?" Professor McGonagall demanded, pressing her wand harder into Draco's spine. "How did you find this camp?"

"Professor, it's okay," Ginny tried to explain, getting to her feet. "We found him last night and let him in—"

"You let him _in_?" Minerva interrupted in disbelief. "Miss Weasley, you do know that this boy is a—"

"Death Eater, I know," Ginny said calmly. "But he is not here to harm anyone."

"How do you know?" McGonagall asked suspiciously, still not removing her wand from a quivering Malfoy's back. "How do I know he hasn't put you all under the Imperius Curse?"

"I didn't," Malfoy whimpered, his voice shaking. "You want proof? My wands in my robe pocket."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, but she warily slipped her free hand into Draco's robe pocket, taking out a thin stick of wood. Keeping her wand still firmly jabbed into Malfoy's back, she examined the wand. "This isn't yours," she said accusingly.

"It's my mothers," Draco explained, his voice slightly calmer. "Potter…er, Harry stole my wand a little while back."

"Harry?" Minerva repeated in disbelievement. "When?"

"We were temporarily captured and brought to Malfoy Manor when we were on the run Professor," Hermione explained. "We escaped and Harry managed to disarm Draco and Bellatrix and take their wands. He's telling the truth."

McGonagall glared at Draco, looking him up and down, but nevertheless slowly let her wand arm drop to her side, releasing Draco. Draco visibly sighed with relief and sat down shakily. McGonagall was still holding onto his mother's wand and keeping her own at the ready, but he didn't seem to care.

The Transfiguration teacher inspected Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny carefully. "You let him inside the camp?" she asked.

All of them nodded.

McGonagall seemed baffled. "Why?"

"He doesn't work for You-Know-Who anymore," Luna explained in her dream-like voice. "He doesn't want to. He wants to help us defeat him."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, turning her attention once again the blond Death Eater before her. "Is that true?" she demanded.

Draco nodded slowly. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"Why?" The Anamagi asked, face stony.

Draco sighed heavily, staring intently at his shoes. "Because I never wanted to be a Death Eater," he said slowly. The words seemed to pain him. "I was just always expected to become one, so I did. I hated it. I hated all the killing, and what he was expecting me to do. I don't want to work for him. I hate him. I want to see him fall. I want to be able to stop worrying that if I make a mistake, he'll kill me, or my parents. So I ran away…to find you and the resistance, so I could join and help defeat him."

"How did you find us?" McGonagall asked, her voice not letting on a hint of emotion.

"Heard someone mention the Forest of Dean during the battle, so I came here, and started wandering randomly, hoping I would find you guys," Draco explained. "Did that until Luna showed up."

Minerva glanced at the Ravenclaw at this and raised an eyebrow.

"He seemed scared and lost," Luna said, shrugging. "I didn't just want to leave him out there."

"So you approached him?" McGonagall asked, aghast.

Luna nodded, grinning. "Yes," she said, obviously not seeing this action to have been a bad thing.

"She approached him and we followed," Neville explained. "Draco explained why he was here, and once we saw he was trustworthy enough and made sure there was no Death Eaters waiting in ambush, we let him in."

"Though we had only promised he could stay the night," Ron recalled somewhat coldly.

Draco nodded. "I remembered," he said shortly, still focusing on his shoes.

"Well," McGonagall said, looking at the five of them and glancing at Malfoy with uncertainty. "If you five really think he is trustworthy, he can stay until the others wake up. But then I think it'll be up to the crowd whether he stays or not. And I'm afraid some of them won't be happy by his presence."

"We know," Neville agreed. "We're going to try and convince his trust, but if the final decision is to not let him stay, we won't prevent it. You understand that, Draco?"

Draco nodded solemnly. He looked up for the first time since McGonagall arrived, regret shinning in his eyes. "I understand," he murmured. "I know not many people want a Death Eater in their midst."

He looked scared, troubled and extremely out of his comfort zone. At the look on his face, McGonagall softened slightly, sitting down on one of the logs, looking strained and older than ever. It was obvious that the war had affected her more than she would have liked to admit.

As the seven of them sat there, slowly more people began to rise and make their way to the dead fire. Most we're shocked to see Draco there, and the majority openly glared at him. But they said nothing as McGonagall motioned for them to stay quiet and gather around the fire pit.

Once everyone had gathered and the expandable tent lay empty, McGonagall stood to address everyone.

"I'm sure you are all wondering what is going on," she said. "And would like an explanation."

"I'll say," Seamus murmured angrily, obviously bursting to voice his outrage. "What is _he _doing here?"

"Quiet Mr. Finnigan," Minerva shushed him. "I will address that."

She looked back to the rest of the group, posture straight and face unreadable. "Last night, Draco Malfoy found his way near our camp," she announced. "He was found by a group of wizards, who asked what his purpose was. He claimed that he was here to help, and after they checked to make sure there wasn't an ambush lying in wait, they let him in to the camp, promising to let him stay only the night. They believe him trustworthy, and believe that he wants to help our cause. The question is whether all of you will be okay with this."

Murmurs broke out among the group of witches and witches, debating on whether they wished Draco to stay or not. Most seemed wary of the Death Eater and hesitant to let him into the group without more proof of his trust. Some were down right disgusted at even considering letting the seventeen year old Slytherin into their midst and openly glared at Malfoy with looks of disgust and anger. The clearing was suddenly filled with the noise of conversation considering the blond boy before them.

McGonagall let them discuss the matter amongst themselves for a good fifteen minutes, standing still and silent, face passive as the others tried to come to a decision. Throughout the heated debate and many glares of hatred in his direction, Draco sat perfectly still on his log, face betraying no emotion and eyes empty. Like a criminal on trial.

After Minerva had felt like the debate had gone on long enough, she silenced them by raising her wand and lightly setting off a small display of green and blue fireworks, sparking and fizzling before them. Slowly, the crowd fell into silence.

"All right," she said. "You may each say what you want on the matter by raising your hand. I'd like to keep this organized. Then, once we've heard everyone's view on the situation, we'll take a vote and come to a final decision. Sound fair?"

Everyone agreed and McGonagall nodded to show they may now raise their hands.

Seamus Finnigan's was first in the air, waving madly.

Solemnly, McGonagall nodded at him.

"How do we know we can trust him?" the sandy-haired Gryffindor accused loudly. "Does he really think he can just waltz into our camp and say 'Oh, I don't want to be a Death Eater anymore, I want to help you guys' and expect us to buy it? He's a Death Eater for Merlin's sake! A Slytherin who works for the man who killed so many of our loved ones! And Harry. He helped kill Harry!"

Mutters of outrage at his words coursed through the crowd and a flash of many different emotions flickered in Draco's eyes. Ron in particular seemed to notice them. First fear. Then outrage. Then disappointment. Then acceptance. And then something that surprised Ron, something that took him a moment to identify. Regret.

McGonagall looked at the five of them after the murmurs had died down and raised an eyebrow, obviously giving them the opportunity to defend Draco. But Ron shook his head. Let a few more people speak and see if any them vouch for Malfoy first.

But as things progressed things were not looking good for the Slytherin. Anything anyone had to say about him was negative, was it a passed experience with him bullying them, or his general mean manner. As each person spoke and testified against him Draco's passive expression slipped into one of anguish until he simply reverted to staring once again at his shoes, unable to face his prosecutors any longer.

Finally, after a good many people had spoken, Ron motioned to McGonagall to let him take the stage. Minerva respectfully did so as Ron stood to face the crowd.

"Okay," he sighed. "It seems that the majority of you seemed to be for not letting Malfoy into our resistance, am I right?"

The majority of the crowd nodded in agreement, very few of them looking unsure.

"All right," Ron said. "If that is what you guys vote, then fine. But before we make a final judgment, I want you to listen to what _we _have to say first."

He motioned to Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny who obediently stood and joined him facing the resistance group.

"Last night, we were the ones who found Draco outside the camp," Ron explained. "We approached him, not knowing his purpose. But when he didn't attack us we asked him what his purpose was. He told us, and we checked the area for attackers. When there was none, we agreed to let him into the camp for the night. But none of us really trusted him at that point—well, except Luna. Right?"

He glanced at his comrades, who all nodded, Luna especially vigorously, a big smile on her face.

"So we let him in, and we basically sat by the fire, not wanting to wake you guys up," Ron said. "And then…well, then he told us why he no longer wants to work for Voldemort and well…despite everything he's done I started to trust him. He seems sincere. And you all know that Draco and I aren't the best of pals. Far from it. He's made fun of my little wealth and my family since the moment I met him. But I think he really wants a second chance and I'm 99.9% positive that he is not here on malicious intent. So what I'm trying to say is…give him a chance."

He finished his speech, glancing at his friends to see if they wanted to add anything but none of them did. Ron had pretty much summed it up.

The crowd seemed to be stunned into silence. The majority of the group seemed shocked that Ron of all people would be defending Malfoy, especially after their history, which was no secret.

It seemed like eternity before the silence was broken. But when it was, it brought a very hard question.

"Okay, so you trust him," Susan Bones said, turning all the attention onto her. She seemed sort of uncomfortable speaking in front of such a huge group but pressed on nonetheless. "Lets even say he is trustworthy. But what did he say to make you trust him so solidly? And why didn't you tell us? Why doesn't he want us to know?"

Murmurs of agreement and demands to know what Malfoy could have possible said to have gain the trust of some of his worst enemies rang through the crowd. Unsure of how to respond, Ron glanced at Draco, who had looked up from his shoes at the question. His face was pleading and his wish was clear. _Don't tell them._

Biting his lip, Ron turned back to the crowd, a sinking feeling that the question might sum up his testament as a lost cause. Sighing, he opened his mouth to address it. "Draco doesn't want to tell you guys because it was…well, pretty personal," he said, dreading what the response was going to be.

It was exactly like he thought it was going to be. The witches and wizards exploded into outraged cries at his response, obviously not about to take "It's pretty personal" for answer. Personally, Ron couldn't blame them. But Ginny had promised Draco earlier that they wouldn't tell everyone about his confession the night before, and he did not want to ruin Draco and his' friendships possible redemption even further. So he stayed silent as the crowd raged, watching Draco carefully to see his reaction.

At first he didn't move, still staring intently at his shoes. But as the shouts and cries emerged, he visible cringed. But he seemed to be holding himself together, something Ron noted with respect. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to take all this himself.

But Malfoy seemed to be doing it.

That is, until Seamus Finnigan's comment rang across the clearing.

"If he doesn't want to tell us why we should trust him, than he can go crying back to his Death Eater mum for all I care!"

At that, Draco snapped. In one fluid motion he rose from his seat on the log and stood in front of the enraged group, eyes hard. Immediately, the crowd hushed.

"I understand why you don't trust me," he said softly but firmly, obviously struggling to keep his voice from wavering. "I'm a Death Eater. I've been a jerk to all of you. I know why you don't want me. But what I want you to understand—" he looked pointedly at Seamus at this. "Is that this was never what I truly wanted. I never wanted to serve the Dark Lord. Not truly. And I don't want to kill. I _can't _kill. I just can't. I'm not a killer. I realized that when I could not kill Dumbledore that night up on the Astronomy Tower like the Dark Lord had ordered me to, when I could not force myself to utter the spell that I had in my head. I couldn't do it. And all the death and destruction that the Dark Lord has caused _sickens _me. I can't take it anymore. I don't want to be a Death Eater anymore."

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "So I thought I might be able to join the resistance against the Dark Lord," he said softly. "But it really was a futile hope. I knew you guys wouldn't see it in the way I want you to. I don't know why I even bothered to try. You're all going to vote 'no' for me staying. You've all already expressed that. So go ahead. I'll find another way to fight him without you. But I just wanted you guys to know that…that I am really here to fight him. I'm not here on orders, and I'm not here to hurt you. I really am here to help."

He opened his eyes again, regret and pleading shinning in them. "So do whatever you want," he said dully. "Believe whatever you want. But that is why I'm here." And with that, he sat down.

Absolute silence met his words. Even Seamus Finnigan seemed to be lost for words. George was openly gaping at Malfoy and even some of the gathered Order members and teachers looked shocked. No one had thought a Malfoy would ever confess something like that.

Finally, after what seemed like forever and longer, McGonagall spoke.

"I think it is more than time that we take a final vote," she suggested softly. "All in favor of making him leave?"

Draco raised his head slightly, scanning the crowd worriedly. Hands rose into the air slowly, Seamus Finnigan's the first up. A good half or so of the group had raised their hands by the end of it though, so it was too early for a clear winner to be determined. Silently, Ron counted the hands and wrote the number down in the dirt with a twig.

"All in favor of letting him stay and join the resistance?" McGonagall said once he was finished.

Silently, more hands were raised into the air, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Ginny and McGonagall herself hands included. Solemnly, Ron counted the hands and wrote down the second number. While the crowd waited in tension, he compared the two numbers.

And broke out into a smile.

"The vote has been decided," he said. "He stays!"

The group broke out into a mixture of cheers and groans, though none were extremely enthusiastic. But nonetheless, the majority seemed happy with the outcome. Grinning, Ron turned to Malfoy.

The Slytherin looked utterly shocked, his mouth forming a dumbfounded O. He stared back at Ron, eyes wide. "You're serious?" he whispered. "You're not pulling my leg?"

"Not at all," Ron said, laughing slightly. "The numbers don't lie. Welcome to the team, mate." Carefully, he extended his arm.

Draco stared at it for a moment, the movement not quite registering in his mind. But then he grasped it, pulling himself to his feet and shaking Ron's hand firmly. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"No problem," Ron said. "You earned my trust, which I didn't think was possible. Lets just hope you can live up to what is expected from you now."

Draco glanced at the rest of the resistance at this, which was now breaking its gathered formation and scattering around the clearing and chatting in groups before turning back to Ron. "As long as I don't have to kill anyone, I think I can handle it," he said, grinning.

"I think that can be arranged," Ron assured him, letting go of the former-Death Eaters hand.

But no sooner than he had, they heard the first explosion.


	7. The Battle of the Clearing

(A/N: Um…yeah…sorry I haven't updated in forever. I know you guys all hate me, but I've been so busy that I've barely had time to do my schoolwork, let alone write. So I hope this chapter makes up for the long wait! Truth be told I'm not really sure if I am totally happy with this. I don't think it's my best work, but I think it'll do. I'm not really good at writing battle scenes and this particular one was rather hard to write. I was having serious problems writing it (another reason it took me so long) and I looked at JKR's battle scenes to try and help me, but it didn't really help because her scenes were all from Harry's POV, and I needed this to be from several, since the story is not from one point of view and I can't use Harry because he's dead. So I had to play around with a couple points of view and piece it all together. I hope it turned out okay. Giant thank you's to all that have favorited, alerted and reviewed this story. You guys are great! Special thanks to Cam135, megan-hp-tw, Dewfrost314, almanera and The Nemesis Of Expectation for reviewing chapter 6. You guys are great! 30 reviews, yay! You guys are awesome!)

(A/N x2: Oh! And on a quick note, I wanted to say that I have this story completely outlined in a notebook chapter by chapter, so I shouldn't have any writer's block along the way! I'm really happy with the storyline and I think it's gonna be pretty epic so stay tuned! XD Enjoy the chapter!)

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Draco swayed slightly, surprised at the sudden noise and caught temporarily off balance as the explosion caused the ground to tremor beneath his feet. "What—"

"Down!" Ron yelled, grabbing the stunned Slytherin roughly and yanking him unceremoniously to the ground with him.

And not a moment too soon. A second later, a flurry of spells flew across their heads, a few green-colored ones among them.

"Get behind that log!" Ron ordered, crawling over to the safety behind the big tree trunk, putting his back to it and pulling out his wand. Draco followed, keeping his head down, eyes wide.

It was then that the screams began. The once-silent clearing was suddenly alive with noise as a battle began, throwing the forest into chaos as spells and curses ruled the air.

Cautiously, Ron poked his head out above the log, wincing at the sight before him. Death Eaters were everywhere, shooting curses at random around the clearing as the people of the resistance either dived for cover or returned fire.

Draco came up beside him; face falling as he saw the masked horrors invading the camp. "Oh no…" he whispered.

"Get back down," Ron hissed as a couple Death Eaters turned toward where they were hiding, dropping behind the log again and pulling Draco with him.

"Death Eaters," he snarled, looking Draco in the eye. "They found us. Did _you _have anything to do with this?"

Draco shook his head wildly, looking horrified. "I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed. "I made sure no one followed me. I don't know what I could have done to alert them. It wasn't me!"

Ron stared into Draco's eyes for a long moment, searching them carefully before nodding. "I believe you," he said slowly. "But they found us somehow." His poked his head back out above the log for a second before coming back down. "We need to get out of here," he said.

"We can't leave everyone," Draco protested. "If we're divided and scattered then we have no hope of ever defeating the Dark Lord and his army!"

"I know, I know…" Ron sighed, looking troubled. He looked at Draco for a long moment, frowning.

"You need to hide," he said suddenly.

"What?" Draco spluttered, surprised.

"You need to hide," Ron repeated. "If the Death Eaters see you with us, they'll know you betrayed them. Won't they hurt your parents?"

Draco's eyes widened, horror shinning in them as Ron's words sank in. "He'll kill them…" he whispered.

"Go," Ron said, nodding towards the lush forest to their left. "Run. I'll cover for you; provide a distraction so they won't see you. Get in the forest and hide. Curse as many of them as you can while staying hidden."

Draco nodded. "How will I contact you if you guys are forced to Apparate out?" he asked worriedly.

"Um…" Ron had obviously not thought about this yet. "Just…stay where you are. We'll come back and find you. Unless we're captured. In that case, try to round up as much as the resistance as you can and either try to break us out, or if that's not possible, carry on without us. The resistance must live, at all costs. We must stay united. If the resistance is broken…well, I don't see anyway we can possibly win this war. It's already pretty bleak as it is."

Draco nodded again. "Okay, got it. I'm assuming when you referred to 'we' you meant you, Granger, Longbottom and that crowd?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah," he confirmed. "Neville's the leader of Dumbledore's Army now, that much is obvious. And Hermione and I were Harry's closest friends…plus Ginny was Harry's girlfriend and Luna is…well, Luna. We're kind of the Harry group, and whether we like it or not the resistance has kind of fell on us."

"I understand," Draco agreed. "If you guys are still alive and fighting, even after Harry's death, it's inspiring to others, much like how Potter was the icon of inspiration before. We can't let everyone get down on themselves, because if we loose hope than all is lost."

"Exactly," Ron breathed, glad that Draco understood the situation. "We have to keep everyone together, united, and at least somewhat hopeful that we can win this. Other whys we can kiss victory goodbye and say hello to You-Know-Who dictatorship."

Draco visibly shuddered at this. "I don't want _that _to happen."

"Me neither," Ron agreed. "Now get into the forest! I'll cover for you. Go, now!"

Draco quickly scampered to his feet, crouching in a ready position behind the log, waiting for the right moment to sprint. He looked at Ron, locking eyes with him for a quick moment. "Thanks Weasley," he said sincerely. "For believing in me."

"You're welcome," Ron said, letting a ghost of a smile cross his face. "Now get!"

Draco smirked slightly, taking a big breath before running out from behind the log at full speed, making a beeline for the cover of the trees. At the same moment Ron bursted out from behind the log and began to shoot spells out like mad, aiming for every Death Eater within twenty feet of him, yelling insults all the way.

The act had the desired effect. All attention went to the mad redhead shooting spells and calling the Death Eaters stupid flobberworms and nobody noticed the blond teenager sprinting for cover in the woods and disappearing into the trees.

~O~

Hermione dodged a curse, running at top speed across the clearing, wand in hand. The forest had erupted into chaos, jets of multi-colored light flying this way and that.

Death Eaters. They had found them! But how?

She had no idea how. All she knew was that they were here and Ron…where was Ron?

"Ron!" she cried, diving behind a boulder as another curse flew passed her. "Ron where are you?"

Bushy hair flying every which way, she poked her head over the boulder…

And came face to face with Fenrir Greyback.

"Hello girly," he breathed in her face, the fowl stench of his mouth washing over her.

A scream erupting from her mouth, Hermione ducked back behind the boulder and began to run, pointing her wand shakily back at the werewolf as she fled.

The half-human Death Eater smiled evilly before jumping up onto the boulder and leaping after her with inhuman speed.

"_Petrificus totalus!" _Hermione yelled, sending the spell flying at the werewolf as she ran blindly through the ensuing battle, heart beating wildly in her ears. But the Death Eater merely dodged it expertly, dropping onto all fours and renewing his chase with an even faster pace; an inhuman, beast-like hunger glinting in his eyes.

"_Stupfey!" _Hermione screamed desperately as Greyback easily plowed through the crowd of dueling wizards and Death Eaters, focused solely on its prey. _"Impendimenta! Descendo! Expulso! Confringo!"_

But none of her spells met its mark. Fenrir was simply too fast…and he was gaining.

Hermione kept running, her leg muscles starting to throb from the stress of running over the rocky terrain, dodging duelers. But no matter how fast she ran, he still gained. Fifteen feet behind. Now ten. Now barely more than five.

In one last final attempt to protect herself, Hermione flung herself behind a mass of furiously dueling wizards, a group of five or so Order members in intense combat with a flurry of masked, robed Death Eaters. Keeping the group of duelers between her and Greyback, she hid behind a thick tree, shaking uncontrollably and breathing rapidly.

After a moment, she stuck her head back out.

And felt her blood turn to ice.

Fenrir was calmly stepping over the five unconscious Order members, two of which were moaning. The other Death Eaters had surrounded the group and were quickly binding the five with snake-like ropes produced from their wands. Fenrir didn't join in, still taking his time and making his way toward Hermione's tree, licking his lips with a grin on his face.

"Come out come out little Mudblood," he called cruelly, never taking his eyes off her tree. "You know you'll never be able to out run me. Just come out like a good little girl and I _promise _it won't hurt much when I kill you."

Hermione stayed rooted to the spot, clutching her wand like a lifeline and breathing heavily. She had no idea what to do. Her instincts told her to Apparate away, but she couldn't leave the battle. She couldn't leave Ron and all the others on their own. Especially not with Greyback.

"Maybe I'll even just wait and bite your little redhead boyfriend at the full moon instead of killing him, just for you," Greyback continued, coming ever closer to her tree. "Then he'll be just like me. How's that sound to you, huh?"

At this, something snapped inside Hermione, and all her fear and uncertainty vanished, replaced with burning hatred. Lunging out from behind the tree before she had even registered her own movement she faced Fenrir, eyes blazing. Clutching her wand so tight her knuckles turned white, she pointed her wand squarely at the werewolf's face.

"I won't let you hurt him," she growled, a fierce anger overtaking her and giving her a source of courage.

The Death Eater stopped, still a good few feet left between the two of them. He didn't look afraid, just bored and curious. "Really?" he said, cocking his head slightly, eyes glinting. "And how do you plan on managing that?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, adrenaline coursing through her. "Like this," she said. _"STUPEFY!"_

She yelled the spell with as much force as she could muster, sending the jet of light flying at the werewolf's face.

Fenrir's eyes widened as the spell hit him, causing him to stagger slightly, clutching his stinging face with a small yelp. But he didn't fall, and after a moment he regained himself, taking his hand away to show his enraged expression.

"Not a wise move, girly," he growled, wolf-like eyes flashing. "And here I heard that you were fairly smart."

"Shut up!" Hermione yelled, sending an unintentional spell flashing out at the werewolf, temporarily losing control amongst her anger. "Just SHUT UP!"

But Greyback was no longer paying attention to her words. He roared as her random spell hit him, all that was left of his humanity leaving him as his eyes glinted madly. Letting out a terrifying snarl, he launched himself at Hermione.

Just as a blur of red and black threw itself in front of Hermione's vision.

"STUPEFY!" Ron bellowed at the airborne werewolf, sending out a jet of red light that hit the surprised Death Eater square between the eyes. Fenrir snarled in pain and frustration as he hit the ground. Immediately, he began to crawl to his feet but Ron was faster. He hit the werewolf with a series of Stunning spells all at once, eyes blazing as he for the first time ever shot them without saying them aloud.

After a couple minutes, Greyback couldn't take the flurry of spells any longer. With one last frustrated snarl, he passed out.

Ron grinned slightly, before turning around to face Hermione. "Who knew?" he laughed. "I managed to mentally cast a spell. I didn't think I'd see the day when I actually was grateful for something I learned from Snape."

Hermione let out a chocked laugh before launching herself into Ron's arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing.

"Shhh," Ron comforted her, stroking her hair in a comforting manner. "It's okay, he can't hurt you anymore."

"Oh Ron…" she whimpered. "I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me, and then he was threatening about turning you into a werewolf and I lost it and…and…" She broke off, unable to continue, sobbing and unable to compose herself as she shook uncontrollably in Ron's arms. She felt like an idiot for being such a girl, but she couldn't help it. Her heart was still pounding uncontrollably at the memory of Greyback lunging for her, his hands aiming for her throat, eyes glinting carnivorously…

"Hey hey hey," Ron whispered, gently uncurling her fingers from his neck and pulling her out in front of him, smiling softly. "It's okay. I'm fine. You're fine. Just relax. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

But Hermione shook her head wildly, eyes glistening with tears. "You're here now," she whispered. "But what if you aren't later? We're at war. One moment you might be here…and then the next…" she swallowed. "You could end up just like Harry," she whispered. "Dead. Gone. Forever. Oh Ron…I didn't think…I thought he would always escape. I never thought that he'd…that he'd…" she took a big breath of air, not able to continue. "I can't stand to lose you too!" she exclaimed finally, shaking.

"Hermione," Ron said slowly, taking a step closer to her. "Listen to me. I understand. Believe me, I do. I still don't think it's completely registered that Harry's really…gone. And I don't think I'd ever forgive myself if anything happened to you. But we can't live in _fear _like that. We can't. It doesn't change anything, and just makes things harder on us. So promise me, _promise me_ that you'll try not to worry about that."

Hermione nodded weakly, but avoided his eyes.

Ron frowned. On impulse he put a finger to her chin, turning her face to look at him. "Look at me," he said sternly. "And promise. Promise you won't worry. Promise you'll stay focused. I need you."

Hermione looked deep into his eyes, marveling at how mature he was now, how much he had grown from being the awkward, red haired bully that she had so forcefully hated when she had first met him. How much had changed. "I promise," she said sincerely.

Ron smiled at her lightly. "Good," he said, turning and slipping his hand into hers. "Now lets get back to the battle. The resistance needs us."

And with that, the two of them launched themselves back into battle.

~O~

Luna waded her way through the thick mass of duelers and debris, shooting the first spell that came to her mind at every Death Eater within her vision. She wasn't really sure what to do, and had been overwhelmed when the Death Eaters had first attacked. She had lost sight of Neville somewhere along the line, but had yet to engage in a duel with a Death Eater. It seemed that all the good ones were taken. Figures. She blamed it on the Nargles. They were always trying to thwart her.

For lack of a good purpose to aid her friends in the battle, Luna set out to find Neville.

She found him after a little while, engaged in an intense duel with a masked Death Eater that Luna didn't recognize. The Sword of Gryffindor was still clutched protectively in his hand and his face was caked in blood. Whose, Luna's didn't know, but she did know that Neville looked tired and that he was losing.

Deciding that Neville might need some help, Luna calmly walked up behind her Gryffindor friend. "Do you need some help Neville?" she asked in her dreamy voice, holding her wand helpfully.

"Luna?" Neville rasped, noticing her for the first time. "Are you okay? Have you been injured?"

"I am fine," she said, touched by his concern. "But you have not answered my question. Do you need assistance?"

"Uh…well…" Neville broke off with a grunt as one of the Death Eater's spells broke through his Shield charm, causing him to stagger slightly. Luna watched passively.

Neville quickly recovered and replaced his charm, blocking a flurry of spells, but didn't miss the look on Luna's face. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "Maybe I need a little help."

Luna grinned and stepped up beside him, wand afloat. Neville was at first slightly taken aback by how close she was to him but quickly recovered, pushing himself to keep his shield strong. "You keep protecting us," Luna said dreamily. "I'll go on the offensive."

"Uh sure," Neville said, not quite sure how to respond. He was exhausted but he pushed even harder, strengthing his Shield charm slightly in his efforts.

Luna smiled happily at him and poked her head and wand arm out from behind his magical shield, aiming it at the opposing Death Eater. "_Expilliarmus!"_ she shouted.

The Death Eater seemed surprised by Luna's bold attack, but quickly recovered and dodged the spell. Unfortunately, the movement left his chest momentarily exposed and Luna did not hesitate to press her advantage.

"_Stupefy_!" she yelled without hesitation. Before the Death Eater could recover the spell had left her wand and hit the dark wizard square in the chest, sending him flying backwards.

Neville let his wand arm drop, his shield disappearing. "Nice shot," he complimented her.

Luna beamed at him. "Thank you," she said.

Neville stared at her, finding himself captivated by her wild and mysterious eyes. He hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth to ask her something—

But was cut off by the sudden arrival of Ron and Hermione.

"Neville," Ron panted as he came up by the two, obviously winded and exhausted. "Luna. Good. Stay with us. We need to come up with a plan and move on to the offensive here. I can't tell for sure, but I think we're losing."

"That is not good," Luna observed.

"No it's not," Hermione sighed, obviously overwhelmed. "There's too many of them. We can't possibly fend them all off. Plus our ranks are scattered everywhere and they know of our location. It'll be next to impossible to gather everyone and Apparate to a new location. There is just too _many _of them!"

"How many of them have you managed to identify?" Neville asked, shooing the group behind a group of bushes as a spell grazed his arm. The four crouched down, conversing hurriedly.

Ron shook his head. "I've only seen a few. Dolohov, Yaxley, Thicknesse, Crabbe, Goyle and Runcorn."

"Don't forget Greyback," Hermione added, looking slightly disgruntled.

"Right and him," Ron added quickly. "And a couple Snatchers I don't know the names of."

"About the same here," Neville said, frowning. "I saw Dolohov and Yaxley a bit ago, and Luna just disarmed Runcorn. I didn't recognize him until after he was down because he was still masked. It's funny we saw the same Death Eater's. I thought I saw you on the whole other side of the clearing."

Ron's forehead crinkled. "I was," he confirmed. "And I disarmed Runcorn too…but I could have sworn he wasn't wearing a mask. Are you sure?"

Neville nodded "Positive," he said sincerely. "When did you fight him?"

"That's what I don't understand…" Ron murmured. "I thought I just Stunned him back by the camp fire just a couple minutes ago, before I found you and Luna."

"How is that…" Neville started, but Hermione cut him off with a loud gasp.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. All eyes turned to her.

"What?" Ron asked, eyes flickering around, looking for danger. "What is it?"

"It makes total sense now!" she exclaimed, looking flustered and excited at the same time, rounding on the group. "Have any of you seen any other Death Eater besides the ones Ron mentioned?"

All of them shook their heads.

"Think about it!" she said hurriedly, tripping over her words in her rush to say them. "We all have disarmed the exact _same _Death Eaters, supposedly around the same time in different areas of the clearing…and _none _of us have seen any other Death Eater besides the seven we covered. Doesn't that seem sort of fishy to you?"

Ron crinkled his brow. "Um yeah, but what does that…?"

"Don't you see!" Hermione exploded. "There _isn't _loads of them! Only about a dozen! Somehow they've multiplied themselves, made copies of themselves so make it _look _and _seem _like there's more of them than they really are! I've read about charms that can do that…though they are old, very ancient and could only be found in really really old books, and could only be preformed with a group effort…but I think they did it. It makes total sense."

"Hermione you're a genius!" Ron exploded, beaming at her. "That explains everything! And why they were able to get on us in such numbers so fast! They were just a scouting party, checking us out to see if we were a real threat and when they saw we were they multiplied themselves to scatter and scare us until they can…can…"

His face suddenly paled. "They're gonna call for back up," he murmured in horror. "Hermione, we're practically all of the resistance, they must know that by now. They're going to call back up."

"And once back up is here," Neville said slowly. "All is lost. The resistance will be scattered probably for good."

"We cannot let that happen," Luna said firmly. "We must act now."

"Agreed," Ron said, standing and clutching his wand. "We have the upper hand at the moment. Their trick has been exposed. Spread the news to the others and try to take out the originals. Hermione, is there any way to counter the multiplying spell?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, looking overwhelmed. "I don't know that type of magic. It's too old. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall probably know."

Ron nodded. "I'll go get them. You stay here until they get here, and the three of you can try to counter it. Me, Neville and Luna will spread the news about the trick and try to get everyone together and organized. The news of the spell should give everyone hope and we should be able to launch a counter attack…I hope."

Hermione nodded, taking a big breath and ducking behind the bushes. "Go," she said.

Ron nodded and he, Luna and Neville took off back into the heat of the battle.

~O~

After about fifteen minutes—fifteen minutes too long in Ron's opinion—the trio managed to locate McGonagall and Flitwick, who were locked in combat with two masked Death Eaters. With help from the three seventh years the followers of He Who Must Not Be Named were overthrown and Ron quickly explained Hermione's realization to the two teachers. Both looked shocked to hear the news, but agreed with Hermione's assessment. They too had only been able to identify the few Death Eaters that Ron and the others had saw. Hurriedly, Ron told them of Hermione's location and the Transfiguration and Charms teacher took off in her direction without another word.

Ron watched them go, Neville and Luna at his side. "Think it'll work?" Neville asked softly.

"I hope so," Ron said softly, "We're running out of options."

~O~

The news spread quickly throughout the battleground. A multiplying charm of some sort. There was only a few Death Eaters there, unlike the hundreds that seemed to be swarming the clearing. All was not yet lost!

The news lifted Ginny's spirits somewhat and she battled on with new energy, making her way to what was slowly becoming the final stand of the resistance, a mass of Order members, teachers and students that had formed around a circle of bushes, where Hermione and Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn were all standing with wands held high, chanting and laying a thick blanket of charms and spells over the mass of Death Eaters. There were still tons of them, but as Ginny waded her way towards the resistance she felt her spirits soar to see a Death Eater to her right begin to fade until he was gone completely.

It was working. Slowly, yes, but it was working.

All was not yet lost.

~O~

Draco watched the battle from his hiding place in the forest, sending curses at his fellow Death Eaters whenever one wandered too close to him. He felt slightly helpless and frustrated with his situation. He wanted nothing more than to go out there and join the battle and make up for his past mistakes. He had been serious when he had told Ron that he no longer wanted to be a Death Eater. In his mind, he no longer was one. The moment the resistance had accepted him, the old him had been stripped away. The old door had closed and a new one had opened. The mark on his arm was the only reminder of who he was still the property of.

And it was that very mark and that very thought that made Draco yearn to fight his one-time allies. They too were property of the Dark Lord and also a reminder of the horrible life he had been forced into since sixth year. He wanted them gone, out of his life. It was incredibly frustrating for him to not be able to do it.

But Weasley had been right. If any of the Death Eaters present managed to escape-or worse, if the Death Eaters were to win-if they saw him they would report him to Voldemort immediately. If he was captured Draco knew he would be tortured to no end, a thought that sent surges of horror through him and made his heartbeat increase three times its normal pace. But even if he wasn't captured, if he was spotted and reported, Voldemort would know of his treachery and surely punish his parents for it. Draco could handle himself being punished, though he knew it would be long, painful, and possibly even fatal. But he would know that he had made the right choice and that he had, at least in the end, changed his ways.

But his parents had nothing to do with his changing of sides. It wasn't their fault. They had been completely loyal to Voldemort, save for when they left with Draco at the end of the battle. They didn't deserve to be punished for his choice and Draco cringed to think about what the Dark Lord would do to them. Mental pictures of his mother being tortured mercilessly by the snake-faced dark wizard that haunted Draco's dreams flashed through his mind. No, he couldn't let that happen. As much as he hated to admit it, Weasley was right. He needed to hide, to save his parents. If his presence in the resistance remained unnoticed by Voldemort, he wouldn't punish them, or at least that was Draco's hope. He was sure that his disappearance would be found out by the Dark Lord eventually, but he would not be able to prove if Draco had joined the resistance or not. Draco had made sure to leave no trail and his parents knew nothing of his plans. That way, Voldemort would get no information out of them through his Legemency and they could be proven innocent in dealing with his escape. He needed to stay hidden so that it remained that way. Draco didn't like it, but it was what must be done.

So he stayed crouched in his refuge in the lush forest, completely silent, watching the battle with a cool patience that he forced upon himself, resisting the urge to run out and join the fighting. He continued this for quite some time, observing the events of the battle from an outside perspective.

At first, things were chaos and Draco could not tell which side was winning. Curses and jets of light of all colors of the rainbow filled the air, causing tree branches to fall, bushes and grass to catch on fire and the creatures of the forest to flee. But after a while things began to thin out and fortunately and unfortunately for Draco, the battle had shifted slightly so that it was now closer to him and his hiding place. Worried he would be spotted, Draco moved deeper into the forest, but not too far. Now that the battle was closer, he could see individual duelers much better. He even managed to identify a couple of the Death Eaters. Straining his eyes he managed to pinpoint the burly frames of his cronies' fathers, Crabbe and Goyle. At one point he also saw Yaxley, who was quickly opposed by Kingsley, and the two broke out into a duel that eventually left Draco's small range of view.

He had only seen three other Death Eaters: Greyback, Dolohov and Runcorn. Four if you counted Thicknesse but Draco didn't really count him. He had seen Runcorn three times, each time dueling with another opponent, and he had seen Dolohov twice. The first time he had been running for his life away from Hagrid who was carrying a stick that was thicker than Draco's whole torso and probably weighted a lot more. The second, he had been dueling with one of the Weasley's. Draco couldn't remember which, only that he had red hair, like all of them. The Weasley had knocked him out with a Stunning spell between the eyes and the Death Eater had been out since then, lying adjacent to Draco's hiding spot, eyes closed.

Draco glanced at him now as the battle continued in the clearing, ignoring his burning muscles as he stayed crouched inside the circle of bushes concealing him. The Death Eater was still out cold and Draco doubted he would be getting up any time—

Draco suddenly lost his train of thought as he glanced back at the clearing. In disbelief he stared at the Death Eater that was now engaged in a duel with two sixth years.

Dolohov.

But that was impossible! Not believing his eyes, Draco turned back to look at the unconscious Death Eater. Sure enough, it was Dolohov. Eyes wide Draco looked back at the duelers, taking in every detail of the robed follower of the Dark Lord. His eyes did not deceive him. He too was Dolohov.

But that was impossible. How could there be two of them?

And then it hit Draco. He looked back at the battle, studying it intently. He had been watching it for quite some time now, and duelers had come and gone by his hiding spot many a time. But yet…he had only seen seven Death Eaters. Seven, the same seven, multiple times. Not one other Death Eater.

And now…two of the same Death Eater at the same time…

Horror overcoming him, Draco remembered the conversation he had overheard months ago…back at the manor…

_Draco stood just outside the giant double doors that led to the manor dining room; arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his face. His mother stood across from him, back to the doors and blocking his way._

_ "You can't come, Draco," she said firmly._

_ "Why not?"Draco spat, annoyed. "I'm a Death Eater! What's so secretive about this meeting that I can't be present?"_

_ "You expect me to know that answer?" she replied to him coolly. "We don't question the Dark Lord. We listen to orders and keep our heads down. Understand?"_

_ Draco murmured something unintelligible before turning on his heel and stalking away. He waited to hear the sound of his mother's footsteps as she left before ducking behind the giant spiraling staircase that was located near the dining room, crouching down and peeking through the railing. He had no intention of leaving and he wanted to know what the meeting was about. He feared the Dark Lord and did not wish to be punished by him, but he hated being treated like a child. He convinced himself if he stayed outside the doors and simply listened in, he would not be discovered._

_ He waited for a while, and soon the rest of the Death Eaters began to arrive, filing into the now-open double doors of the dining room. His mother and father greeted them stonily, expressions passive and betraying nothing. Draco stayed hidden in the shadows, not making a sound._

_ And then HE arrived. Draco could feel his presence even before he saw him. An unnatural chill overcame the foyer and despite himself, Draco shivered. And then there he was. The Dark Lord, strolling down the grand foyer with his bare, white feet brushing the fibers of the carpet. Nagini was wrapped around his torso and his black, flowing robes rippled slightly, although there was no breeze. Like always, Draco felt like he couldn't breathe and a cold sweat broke over him. Nervous, he retreated farther back into the shadows._

_ Suddenly, Voldemort's head whipped around so that his blood red eyes were fixed on his hiding spot. Draco was barely able to repress a whimper as those deadly eyes looked into the dark shadows he had taken refuge in. His palms became wet with sweat and he couldn't think straight at all._

_ Just when he was sure that Voldemort was going to casually take out his wand and kill him, the Dark Lord smiled, the edges of his lipless mouth curving up slightly as his killer eyes sparkled. He smiled at Draco for what felt like an eternity before turning and making his way carelessly towards the dining room, not even sparing Draco's hiding place a second glance. Suddenly, Draco found he could breathe again, and he felt sticky sweat dripping off his forehead. The Dark Lord knew he had been there._

_ The ordeal had shaken him considerably, but after the double doors had closed and the meeting began, Draco recovered enough that he could build up enough courage to sneak up to the doors and put his ear to the key hole, heart pounding in his ears._

_ The conversation came to him. Faintly, but loud enough that Draco could make out the words._

_ "We have been successful, my Lord," one of the Death Eaters announced in a deep voice. Draco recognized it at once. Snape. "The spell you have provided works well and can be used at any given time in battle on your orders."_

_ "Very good," Voldemort's high-pitched, snake-like voice said slowly, drawing out every syllable. "I am pleased. We will keep this advantage our secret weapon for now…until the appropriate time comes that we can use it. How many…duplicates…can you make?"_

_ "A good twenty to thirty of the same person, when done…correctly," Snape said slowly._

_ "Good,' Voldemort hissed. "I want you to teach this incantation to the rest of the group present here today, and do not mention it to anyone else. It must stay our secret."_

_ "Of course, my Lord," Snape's low voice said evenly._

_ The conversation then turned to different, less interesting matters concerning the Ministry and Draco withdrew, worried about getting caught and perplexed by what he had heard. What did they mean by duplicates? How could one spell be a 'secret weapon'?_

_ Thinking about it hurt his brain and he could not come up with a very reasonable answer, so he retreated to his room and soon forgot about it, losing himself in other tasks._

Now the memory came back, the Dark Lord and Snape's words ringing in his ears. Duplicates…twenty to thirty of the same person…

Draco's eyes became wide.

There wasn't a whole army of Death Eaters here. In fact, Draco doubted there were more than ten of them. They were all duplicates, magical clones. _That _was Voldemort's secret weapon. By duplicating his followers, it made it look like he had much more followers that he actually truly did, and could overwhelm his opponents in sheer numbers. He had no idea where the Dark Lord found such a spell, but he did not doubt that he himself had found it. He would not put anything like that passed the Dark Lord.

He had to tell the others. They had to know that they were being duped, or the battle would easily be lost. Right now the Death Eaters had the advantage on their side and didn't need backup, but they could call reinforcements, or worse, the Dark Lord, at any moment, and then they would be quite literally screwed. He had to warn them and—

His frantic thoughts ceased suddenly as his weary grey eyes observed a sudden change in the battle. The resistance—his side, he reminded himself—seemed to be retreating and forming a mass group in the opposite direction of Draco. Draco's eyes narrowed in confusion at the sight. What were they doing? The mass seemed to have no offensive strategy to it. It was simply a wall. And in a war, a wall did only one thing—protect. It must be a defensive strategy of some sort to protect—

Protect what? Draco couldn't think of anything the resistance would need to protect so much that they would pull back their entire force to protect it. The Death Eaters too seemed confused by the sudden action, and were obviously at loss of what action to take. They watched the mass retreat for a couple minutes before a couple of them wised up and charged the defensive wall of wizards and witches. Sneering slightly Draco had a feeling that they couldn't come up with any other plan but to charge.

He needed to see what they were protecting. He knew he couldn't do a lot about it—not if he was going to stick to his original plan and stay out of the way to protect his family—but it was killing him not knowing what was going on, and the whole battle was shifting towards the mass that was the resistance now, which was far away from Draco's hiding spot. He needed to move.

He waited a moment, crouching in his hiding spot at the ready, one hand brushing the soft dirt of the forest. He scanned the area one more time for stray Death Eaters before sprinting out of his hiding place at top speed, dodging behind trees and clearing bushes, making his way to the resistance. He reached it in a matter of minutes, winded and breathing hard. He quickly ducked behind another patch of bushes and peered over them, observing the mass.

His eyes widened at what he saw. They had formed a circle, a circle around a small ring of bushes, in which Draco could see the forms of Hermione Granger, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn through the arms and heads of the many Order members and students blocking entrance to their ring of bushes. They all had their wands held up towards the sky and were muttering charms clearly through the air, though Draco could not make out what they were saying. He saw Weasley run passed his hiding place and was about to yell at him and ask what in the name of Merlin they were doing when he saw it.

A Death Eater—he believed it was Yaxley—ran passed him, chasing after Weasley with his wand out and ready. But as he ran, before Draco's unbelieving eyes, he began to fade away. His arms became translucent and flickered in and out from a solid, much to the Death Eater's horror. Soon, the condition spread to his torso and then his legs, until it was up to his neck and his entire head was flickering in and out of existence.

Yaxley stopped and screamed, shaking his arm madly as if trying to shake off a spider, but the fading didn't stop, and his screams suddenly ceased as he disappeared completely.

Draco stared at the spot he had disappeared for a long moment, mouth open. Then, slowly, he smiled, grey eyes sparkling. His head whipped around to face the resistance and the five witches and wizards in the middle. He knew what they were doing now. He didn't know how, but somehow they had found away to counter the Dark Lord's charm!

"Go," he whispered, grinning uncontrollably now. "GO!"

And go they did. Before Draco's eyes, Death Eaters began to fade out of existence. At first the movement was slow, but then it began to quicken and Draco could feel a heavy blanket of spells come over him as the counter-charm the resistance was casting filled the air. Death Eaters were disappearing every second now, and their numbers were dwindling considerable. It didn't take long until only a good twenty or so Death Eaters remained.

The resistance kept casting the counter charm, but Draco saw that none of the remaining twenty Death Eaters were disappearing. With a swooping sensation in his chest, he realized they were the only Death Eaters that weren't duplicates. Twenty. Only twenty!

His head whipped around to face the resistance, who had noticed the same thing as Draco. The five in the middle dropped their wands, sweating from their effort, and dead silence filled the clearing as they all faced the twenty followers of Voldemort.

And then a single cry filled the air.

"CHARGE!"

Ron's voice rang across the clearing like a bullhorn, and with a battle cry the resistance charged the Death Eaters like a herd of bulls, wands held high.

And the Death Eaters, doing their part, turned and fled.

They were easily overtaken and Draco watched in glee as each Death Eater was taken down one by one, binded by rope or pinned down the Muggle way, struggling feebly in the dirt. The captured followers were brought to the middle and all bound together by tight ropes.

As soon as the last Death Eater had been tied, the resistance broke into cheering, celebrating their victory with loud, joyous voices, hugging each other and sending jets of light high into the air. Draco couldn't help but cheer to, jumping up from behind the bushes and sending a spell into the air.

They had won.


End file.
